


Blood Red Christmas Stars

by JuliaBaggins



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Torture, Christmas Party, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Injury, London 1895, M/M, Past Abuse, Self-Harm, like not really?, not very slow burn, self harm not done for the purpose of harming oneself?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17098061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins
Summary: It's December 1895, and Fabrizio Moro, Italian monster hunter, takes a holiday in London. Where he crosses paths with a vampire, who is not quite what Fabrizio would have expected...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This project has taken up pretty much all of my writing time in December, and I'm delighted to be able to share it with you now. So I hope you'll like it too!
> 
> Kudos to Marjo for listening to all my ramblings and ideas, and for making this chapter happen at all - my original idea for this story was what now is going to be the fifth (?) chapter, but when a friend asks so nicely to please also know Metamoro's backstory, what is one supposed to do? ;)
> 
> Also, Happy Christmas to you! ❤

**_London, 1895, a few days before Christmas_ **

Millions of tiny white snow crystals were dancing from a darkly clouded sky towards the busy streets of London. It was an evening, unusually cold even for December, and the breath of the people rushing towards places warmer and more comfortable than those roads got frozen in the air; little clouds resembling the thick fog the chimneys were blowing into the sky, where it danced around the winterly snow clouds until they became one. The city seemed to be hidden under a hood that kept in the fog and the snow and the cold, while it excluded everything outside of London, be it the landscape one could spot from the towers on a bright day or the star-decorated sky that promised to linger somewhere behind the clouds.

One man on the busy street was walking slower than the people around him; his steps not hurrying towards a place to be but rather exploring, his dark eyes curiously taking in the environment. Snowflakes settled in his messy black hair that was escaping from underneath his black hat, and he was clad in a grey jacket, though he wasn’t curling it around himself as tightly as the other pedestrians – it nearly was as if the man couldn’t feel the biting cold teeth of the December air at his skin, or as if he had forgotten about it over his admiring of the city around him.

The man had never been to London before, and it fascinated him; how different it looked from his home that was Rome. How the little houses made of bricks got covered more and more in a thick layer of fluffy white snow, and how well this matched with the children at the street corner who were singing a Christmas song. _What_ exactly they were singing, that the man couldn’t quite understand, for his English didn’t go much further than greeting others in a polite small talk or asking for directions, but nevertheless, he understood the mood of the song. It sounded like a cozy home, like good food and beloved people, and though this was a rather distant memory for the man, something he couldn’t imagine himself to ever find again, it caused him to smile. Smiles broke out on the children’s faces as well when the man put a few coins in the hat they had placed in the snow in front of their feet, and he added an accented “Merry Christmas” before walking around the corner.

 

The sounds of the people, the horse carriages and what seemed to be the city itself soon drowned out the children’s voices, but the man felt as if he still could hear them echoing in his heart, and this warmed him more than any coat could. The man walked for another few minutes, and then he found himself near the river, where less people and more silence invited him to stay a little while longer. He let his eyes fly over the water, the buildings at the other shore, and then they widened, because they spotted a miracle. In the darkness above the river, a bridge was looming, as beautiful in appearance as she was impressive in technology, and though the man had seen photographs in the newspapers, remembered all the articles that had been written on the occasion of the opening in the previous year, it was nothing compared to actually _seeing_ the Tower Bridge right in front of him. For some time, the man just stood there, and admired the sight that presented itself to him. And though he promised himself to come back in the daylight at some point during the week, he doubted that even a more detailed view in bright sunshine would have been able to compete with how magical the bridge looked right now.

After a quick glance towards his little golden pocket watch, the man allowed himself another two minutes of getting lost in the sight of the Tower Bridge, and then he turned around, away from this magnificent building and back towards the busy city center. The previous day, he had gotten an address, together with a charming smile and an invitation, and as the man was new in London, hadn’t had much opportunity to meet other people yet, he was curious to see what the evening would bring. Maybe he would even find someone who could show him around the city for a bit, someone to introduce him to places more secretive than those depicted in the newspapers and the travel guides, but certainly not less beautiful. In just a few hours since his arrival, the city of London already had managed to convince the man of its beauty, its uniqueness, and he couldn’t deny that this impressed him, as well as it sparked his curiosity even more. So overall, the man was in a good mood, and when he had reached the given address, quickly, thanks to his good sense of orientation, he rang the bell with a smile playing around his lips.

 

A maid in a simple black dress opened the door, politely asking him to please step inside, and after the man had handed her his coat, he was led into a saloon, brightly lit by dozens of thick white candles. Some heads turned at the man’s entrance, and soon the host walked towards him with a bright smile on her blood red painted lips.

“Fabrizio!”, she greeted in joy, offered her hand for a kiss that he gently hinted at, and then she waved towards the people she had been in a conversation with earlier. “This is the Italian gentleman that I met at the tea room yesterday, the one I’ve been telling about, you _have_ to meet him!” 

Fabrizio shook some hands, exchanged polite phrases and sipped at a glass of red wine that he had been given, trying to ignore the fact that the wine was not exactly of the sun drowned Italian quality that he was used to. The English conversation soon got a little too challenging for his knowledge, so Fabrizio started to wander around the room, catching a phrase of words here and there, and admiring the dance of the snowflakes in front of the windows.

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”, a voice suddenly reached Fabrizio’s ear, and it took him a moment to realize why something felt _off_ about this. The words had been spoken in Italian, and there was a warm shiver running down Fabrizio’s spine at the sound of his mother tongue, especially as it was spoken in such a pleasant voice.

He turned around with another charming smile already forming on his lips, only to have this freeze in place, as well as his whole body that froze in the movement. And Fabrizio could see it in the other man’s face, how he very well noticed this change in attitude, and _oh_ , what a face that was: he was attractive, gently curled dark hair framing a handsome face, his skin nearly as pale as the snow falling outside, and the colour of his brown eyes seemed to be tinged in red in the candles’ flickering; the red also dancing along the edges of his otherwise dark suit which hugged his body rather nicely, the red that certainly didn’t fit his blood.

Fabrizio had been prepared for a lot of things to happen during his holiday, but meeting a vampire at a high society party in London hadn’t quite been one of them. And nevertheless, he was convinced about whom, or rather _what_ he was facing here. It was oh so obvious, in the red flames dancing in the other man’s eyes, as well as in the raising of his barely existent eyebrows, the smirk playing around his lips. Fabrizio was convinced that the stranger knew exactly that Fabrizio knew what he was, and he seemed to be _enjoying_ this knowledge. 

In Fabrizio’s past, a few vampires had crossed his path, but they rather had been run down figures hiding in dark places, luring lonely travelers into their caves that they barely ever crawled out of, and not gentlemen in dark green velvet suits who smiled at him at Christmas parties. Fabrizio’s eyes hurried through the room, registering exits, possible weapons, how many innocent people who might get hurt or worse were present. And the more he saw, the more desperate he got – he didn’t estimate his chances to be very good here. But that wouldn’t stop him, it never had before. So Fabrizio took a deep breath, and focused his attention on the other man again. On the man who was just regarding him curiously, his head tinged a little to the side.

While the silence between them caused an unpleasant tingling feeling at Fabrizio’s skin, the stranger, the _vampire_ seemed to get more comfortable with the minutes, a lazy smile thrown in Fabrizio’s direction. And then, suddenly, their moment got broken, and with this, it was like the bubble they had been in flew away; the sounds of the other people’s talking, the music, the background noises of the city reaching Fabrizio’s ears in full intensity after they had been drowned out ever since he had heard those few words in Italian. Words that had sounded like home for a split second, innocent words about the beauty of the snow. Words that now caused Fabrizio to wonder if he would survive this evening.

 

What brought him back into an overly filled and Christmassy decorated saloon had been the appearance of the hosting lady next to them, so unaware of what she was interrupting here, and Fabrizio tried to pretend that everything was just normal, while actually, nothing was.

“Oh Fabrizio, I see you’ve already met our dear Ermal! How wonderful, I had been planning to introduce you! Isn’t it lovely to meet someone from your own country so far from home?”, and while saying this, she placed a hand on the vampire’s shoulder, missing how he rolled his eyes for a little moment.

“Indeed”, came the answer in a honey sweet voice, shortly followed by an, “and this is just a _wonderful_ party, you’ve been outdoing yourself.”

“Oh Ermal, leave it be”, she exclaimed, already walking away, and her tone indicated how very much she had counted on hearing something like this. “Enjoy the evening you two!”, she added, on her way to the next conversation she could join, throwing them a smile over her shoulder.

“I’m sure we will enjoy it”, Ermal answered, in nearly accent-free English, and then turned back to Fabrizio, to whom he spoke in words that were Italian and half as loud as earlier, and in a voice that sounded a lot less faked. “I’ve told her quite a few times that I’m _not_ Italian, just living there, but I fear continental European geography is not of as much interest as the newest affair of this or that duchess. Well, there probably can’t be anything done about this… Fabrizio it is, right?”

Fabrizio could only nod, the whole situation rendering him speechless. How could this man, this monster, just casually ask for his name as if he wanted to get to know him, charm the host as if he was just another wealthy and attractive party guest, complain about her throwing all of Europe into one pot as if they were old friends? How could he look at Fabrizio with eyes whose red fire rather seemed to look like the flickering of the flames in a homely fireplace, not like a wildfire out to burn, kill, destroy everything in its path?

“So, you’re new to the city?”

“I am”, Fabrizio said, trying to get his composure back, “I take it you’re not?”

“Oh I haven’t been here as long as you might think”, the vampire said, and had the audacity to smile rather charmingly at Fabrizio.

“And do you enjoy it? The city, the weather?”

“The weather in particular. It’s such a shame I barely get to see the sun though.”

A waiter walked by, providing Fabrizio with a perfect opportunity to get a new glass of wine, take a sip, another, have an excuse not to say anything at the moment. Because small talk with vampires, especially those who oh so shamelessly were not trying at all to hide what they are, was not part of his usual repertoire. Ermal continued to look at him, his eyes fixing at Fabrizio’s throat for a moment when he swallowed, and then, he decided to keep the talk going by himself.

“Fabrizio, I have to admit that this is the most interesting conversation I’ve had at any of these parties, and you’ve barely said three sentences.”

“I know what you are.”

“Yes, I had figured that out. Now, do you want to get into a monologue about how your going to kill the ugly monster that is me? Pretending you’d be convinced of this, while actually, you know how bad your chances are standing here? Or would you rather like to actually _talk_ for a while, as if we’d just be two gentlemen who met each other at a party?”

“I don’t think that it’s possible for a.. for someone like you to be a gentleman.”

“Oh of course not. Just like you aren’t one. Which gentleman would stand here, appearing to be focused on nothing but our conversation, while actually being busy checking the room for weapons, possible ways to escape, other monsters that might be lingering behind a corner just to get you? Which gentleman would even notice that there’s something about me that’s different? Least alone know _what_ that is? And which gentleman would know so well why the weather in London, the everlasting rain, might not be an inconvenience to me, but rather the opposite? You know a lot, and I admit that you’ve managed to spark my curiosity, _Fabrizio_. So I will propose something. Until midnight, let’s both be nothing but party guests here. You can stop eyeing that table over there as if you’d plan to rip off a leg to slam it into my cold cold heart at any minute, and I’ll promise you that I’ll drink nothing but wine for the next few hours.”

“You can’t possibly be serious”, Fabrizio whispered, he couldn’t help it.

“Do you think I’d still get all those nice invitations if I was not able to have myself under control for a few hours?”

“And do you think I’d be stupid enough to just believe whatever you promise me?”

Fabrizio wondered if Ermal always was smiling that much, or if this smile, the one that was bordering on dangerous right now, was something special. Something only he had managed to bring out in the vampire.

“Of course not. But my offer still stands. I think we’re both too smart to just start, I don’t know, what would we even do? Jumping at each other, my teeth against whatever weapons you’ve hidden at your body? Right in the middle of pretty much everyone whose name you need to know in London? Let’s please not. I think we both can-“

 

“Ermal, what a pleasure to see you!”, they once again got interrupted, this time, by a young man who looked a lot like the host. And as yesterday, she had been telling Fabrizio about her son, he suspected that this was just whom they were facing now.

“James”, Ermal greeted, his chin hinting at a polite nod, and they started a conversation about a concert in the Royal Albert Hall that they seemingly both had been visiting.

Fabrizio didn’t understand every word, especially not when they were describing the music, but from the tone of Ermal’s voice, he suspected that it had been rather pleasing. What that meant, he wasn’t sure – he’d never talked to a vampire for much longer than mutual death treads, and he certainly had no idea about their music tastes. Or if there even were universal ones; if this one might be as extraordinary in his taste as he was in appearance. Fabrizio closed his hand around the small silver dagger he carried in his suit jacket’s pocket to remind himself what he was facing here, and that the creature’s music taste very much shouldn’t be occupying his thoughts. And then, he caught a sentence that had his attention snapping back to the conversation that Ermal and James were having.

"And it's such a pity that we won't hear you play today!", the young man said, and Fabrizio looked at Ermal questioningly.

"You.. play? What exactly?"

"A violin", the vampire explained, his gaze locking with Fabrizio's.

"Interesting. And why won't I be able to experience that today?"

Fabrizio had decided that two could play a game here, and if Ermal wanted to pretend that there was nothing out of the ordinary about their presence at this party, about them in general, he could go along with this. Even if it was just for the benefit of the people around him; keeping the monster occupied that somehow seemed to have taken an interest in him, to not give him the time to get other ideas here. Other than that, there was nothing - Fabrizio was vehemently ignoring the steady whisper in his head that Ermal was the most interesting person he had met since arriving in London, that conversation with him was rather pleasant. This did not matter, and he would not start thinking about him as if he was just a handsome young man, as if his pale skin wouldn't usually be smeared in red red blood, as if he couldn't kill everyone in this room in minutes if he'd like to.

Ermal just continued to look at Fabrizio, as if he'd sense the turmoil in his thoughts, and as he noticed the silence between them, the question still waiting for an answer, the third man in their little circle saw it as his duty to step in once again.

"Ermal never plays alone, only with Marco at the piano accompanying him, but I fear that he isn't here today", James explained, taking pity at Fabrizio.

"Indeed", Ermal confirmed, "my brother", and at this point, a smile ghosted around his lips, "couldn't make it today, but he will pick me up later."

"Your brother?", Fabrizio asked, to clarify if he was understanding this right, what the vampire might mean when he talked about a _brother_. And the smirk in Ermal's face while he nodded told Fabrizio that he was right with his suspicion. How wonderful, there was more than one. This holiday promised to be way less relaxing than he had hoped for.

"You have to meet Marco; I hope he'll be able to come to our Christmas party!", the hosting lady's son said, to which Ermal smiled.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you two would get along just _perfectly_ ", and Ermal seemed to be enjoying himself so much here that Fabrizio decided to try to surprise him.

"I'm looking forward to meet him. Now, would you be opposed to the idea of playing with me?"

"Excuse me?"

"I can play a piano as well, so we might try this together."

"How interesting - you surely are a man of many talents, Fabrizio. Is playing the piano something you need in your job? What did you say was it that you were doing for a living?"

"I don't think I said anything."

"Of course", Ermal just said, sipped at his wine, and Fabrizio wondered if the third man in their round was blind to not see the fire dancing in Ermal's eyes.

He was glad that James didn’t ask him about his occupation, because Fabrizio was not too fond of lying, but hunting down monsters also was not quite what one would expect a gentleman to spend his days (and nights) with. What James seemed to be more interested in was the perspective of enjoying some unexpected music, of seeing their new guest at the piano with Ermal, whom they all already admired for his talent already, by his side.

“So you will join me?”, Fabrizio asked, well aware that Ermal hadn’t actually answered his question earlier.

“I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world”, Ermal confirmed, in Italian, in a voice that nearly was purring, and Fabrizio wished he could say that he believed to wholeheartedly hate the other man. But somehow, there was something that told him that this would have been a lie. At least a little one.

 

Around ten minutes later, Fabrizio found himself sitting at a piano more expensive looking than he’d ever played one, and after having left the room for a moment, Ermal walked back inside, a case in his hands. He opened it, elegant fingers taking out a violin as careful as if the instrument had been made out of glass, and Fabrizio had a suspicion why.

“It’s your own violin, I assume?”

“It is indeed”, Ermal said while placing the instrument on his shoulder, his cheek touching the wood as if it would belong there, “I keep it here these days, as a party is hosted nearly every evening and people seem to be rather fond of me playing it. But I always make sure that Adaline puts it behind locked doors.”

Fabrizio nodded, while he thought about how it wouldn’t have been necessary for Ermal to say this. His attachment to the instrument should be visible for everyone who had been blessed with the ability to see, and as it looked old rather than expensive, well used rather than fancy, Fabrizio assumed that the violin held some sentimental value. And he thought about asking how old it may be, later.

For now, he placed his hands at the piano, and after a few overenthusiastic words from their host, Fabrizio started to play. Ermal and him hadn’t agreed on what to play beforehand, hadn’t talked about the music at all, but through an intuition that rarely ever was wrong, Fabrizio was convinced that it would work, and he also didn’t doubt that Ermal had enough time in his life and especially what came after to master his instrument. So Fabrizio tried it with a piece by Beethoven, and was smiling satisfied down at the black and white keys that his fingers were dancing above when he heard how perfectly Ermal’s violin accompanied his own music. It had been long, too long, since Fabrizio last had given himself the time to just get lost in the music, and when he last had played with someone else, that was hard to remember. With someone that talented, probably never before.

It didn’t take long for Fabrizio to close his eyes, to focus on nothing but the magic reaching his ears, his fingers knowing well what to do on their own, and when he played the last note together with Ermal, it felt as if not a moment had passed since they had started, while at the same time, it seemed to have been years. 

 

Fabrizio opened his eyes to the party guests who had gathered around them applauding, way more than would have been needed to be polite, and on the cheek of a young lady dressed in blue, he spotted a tear; emotions visible for the whole room, for the whole world, for his observant eyes that nearly were a little wet themselves. Emotions that the music had created, _their_ music. If someone had told Fabrizio just earlier on this day, that he’d end it by playing a duet with a vampire, he’d have worried about their sanity, but now, this was just what had happened. And lying to oneself always proved to be a rather hard task, so Fabrizio couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t felt good. At least not when he allowed his heart to be honest here, his heart that oh so bravely was fighting against all the voices in his head who were screaming about danger, about stupidity, about death.

And all the while, Ermal watched Fabrizio with curious eyes, his violin still held by careful fingers, a smile dancing around his pale lips…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna send a big Thank You to Ceci, for helping me to sort out an issue with the story in this chapter, to Lisa, for a very beautiful moodboard that made me a happy writer, and to Marjo, as always, for not minding me sending you random phrases of text in the middle of the night. And of course thanks to everyone who left feedback on the first chapter; you've all been a great help!! ❤️

**_London, 1895, a few days before Christmas_ **

After the music had ended as well as the applause, the room once again got inhabited by the sounds of people chattering, crystal glasses clicking together, stories being rewarded by faked laughs. And while most of the other people’s attention shifted away from them, Ermal and Fabrizio still were exclusively focused on each other, two pairs of dark eyes searching for an answer to questions that before today, they wouldn’t have thought to ever ask themselves.

And then, the beautiful clock next to the fireplace was to be heard, announcing for everyone around that it was eleven o’clock.

Ermal’s eyes flickered towards the device before he turned them back on Fabrizio, smiling a little dangerous.

“That leaves us with another hour, if I’m not mistaken?”

“I never agreed to your idea of not fighting each other until midnight”, Fabrizio reminded, fighting his hardest to not let any amusement slip into his voice.

“No, you didn’t. So what shall we do? Do you want to get it over with right now?”, and as if to underline the dramatic tone of his voice even more, Ermal reached up, to open one of his silk shirt’s buttons. 

Fabrizio looked at the skin that he revealed, deadly pale and mocking him, on display as if he’d actually go and stab Ermal right here and right now.

 

And once again, they got interrupted, an elderly gentleman complimenting the music they had played, and it took a few moments of Ermal’s politely guarded disinterest until he left again.

“This is getting rather annoying”, Ermal remarked once there was nothing left of the man’s presence in their conversation except for an echo of his heavy perfume.

“Are you suggesting we should change your idea; leave before midnight and sort things out?”

“No. But I think we should find ourselves an opportunity to talk without interruptions.”

“And what might that be?”, Fabrizio asked, because he very much didn’t plan to just go towards the dark streets in Ermal’s company without any preparations, any chance to come up with a plan, any witnesses. 

The vampire had done nothing but surprise Fabrizio the entire evening, but now, the biggest surprise of them all left his elegant lips.

“Dance with me.”

Fabrizio stared at him, at this face that seemed to show nothing but innocence right now, like a maiden that might ask one shyly to take a walk in the sun together. Except that there was nothing innocent about Ermal, and after a moment, his eyes gave him away. The amusement dancing in them proved just how much he was enjoying this, enjoyed teasing Fabrizio. Who made a show out of looking around, letting his gaze roam over the crowd in the saloon.

“I fear that even if you’d be blessed with a heartbeat the image of the two of us dancing together might be too much for the poor people in this room.”

“Now that’s a pity. We could tell them that it’s an Italian thing? Friends dancing together to have a little fun, no matter if they’re both gentlemen?”

“We’re friends even less than we are gentlemen.”

“And yet you’re thinking about it”, Ermal said, his voice so low that it barely carried above the noise in the room. And he wasn’t wrong. For a split second, Fabrizio allowed himself to imagine it, Ermal and himself dancing just like the couples a few meters away, soft music carrying them through their movements, his hands touching Ermal’s pale skin whose cold made him shiver even in his imagination.. But no. Fabrizio shook his head to get rid of it, these images lurking in the back of his mind. He tried to think of a warm body in his arms, memories still vivid no matter that it had been a long time ago; tried to ask himself why, even if he thought about dancing with a man who might be bordering on being attractive, in this scenario that never would come true anyways, he couldn’t imagine his skin to feel warm underneath his touch. And he wondered if Ermal knew, or at least suspected, what was running through his mind, for he was still smirking at him, dangerous but not in a way that would threaten one’s life. If he wouldn’t know better, Fabrizio might think that they would be flirting.

 

Tension filled silences seemed to become a thing here, and Fabrizio watched Ermal step a little bit closer, as if they’d actually start to dance any second. He swallowed. And then, they heard a sound. At first, Fabrizio couldn’t place it, but once he turned in the direction it had come from, he realized what it had been. Earlier, after they had finished playing and getting congratulated, Ermal had gently laid down his violin on top of the piano, before the two of them had taken a step or two to the side, towards one of the room’s corners. And now, a man dressed in purple, one that Fabrizio vaguely remembered being introduced to as Guillaume, had picked it up. His ignorant fingers that still were glistening in fat from his earlier meal closed around the delicate wood, and one of his sharp nails mindlessly playing with the strings lured a sad note out of the instrument.

Fabrizio stepped closer to the piano as if it was on instinct, and Ermal did the same, until they both stood in front of Guillaume.

"You'll put that instrument down immediately", Ermal said, and a shiver ran down Fabrizio's spine. Because his voice had sounded so.. so lifeless, so _cold_. And the man still grabbing the violin had to be either incredibly brave or very very stupid to not follow Ermal's words in this very second, at least in Fabrizio’s opinion.

Fabrizio noticed how Ermal's eyes seemed to be completely black now, like two abysses inside his snow-white face, and it truly was an intimidating sight. And once again, Fabrizio imagined the room filled with corpses instead of happily chattering and gossiping party guests, imagined the walls decorated by blood instead of creme coloured wallpapers, imagined Ermal's smile to vanish to make room for a fang-spiked Grimace that was out for blood. Though the last thing, he didn't really have to imagine. The smile already had slipped away the moment that those greedy hands had touched the violin, and now, Ermal’s whole face seemed to have been sculpted out of marble. He looked like a Greek god displayed in a museum; one about whose bloodthirst stories would carry through the centuries. 

The man snarled something in English that Fabrizio didn’t catch, his French accent causing the words to sound even more foreign than they already were, and with a challenging smile in Errmal’s direction, he laid the violin down at the piano again. Hard. Hard enough, with enough force, that Fabrizio feared the instrument might break. More words were exchanged, syllables dripping with poison being spat out of Ermal’s mouth, and Fabrizio noticed how by now, the conflict had gathered the attention of a few of the people around. And he didn’t know what to do. If Ermal were to attack Guillaume, could he just kill him here, in front of all of those people? Would they judge him a murderer, or would they realize that he had saved them from one of those monsters they had not been aware of so far; one of the monsters whose existence, the knowledge about it, would haunt all of their days to come? Which would be worse? And wasn’t there a little voice in the back of Fabrizio’s mind that whispered that if he could help it, he would prefer to not kill Ermal at all?

Guillaume took a step towards Ermal, and Fabrizio now could see it in the slight stumble of his feet, that he was drunk. Drunk enough to ignore all the subtle signs, those that usual humans couldn’t quite put into words, not like Fabrizio could, but that provided them with enough common sense to not cross the way of a being like Ermal.

 

And when Guillaume raised his hand, as if he wanted to punch Ermal, Fabrizio stepped in. Positioned himself between them, his mind too occupied with the situation at hand to realize that it wasn’t necessarily the human that he wanted to protect here.

“Stop it”, he hissed at Ermal, in Italian, “You’ll bring both of us into an impossible situation if you decide to have a snack now just because he is an insufferable asshole.”

“Get out of my way”, Ermal answered, and while he could have gotten his will very easily, could have fought to get past Fabrizio, he didn’t.

Fabrizio wasn’t too fond of looking strangers straight in the eyes, but here, it seemed necessary. He stared into Ermal’s black eyes, until he could see a flicker of red again, shortly before Ermal looked down. And stormed out of the room, grabbing his violin on the way out and not looking back.

At the shocked gazes of the people around, Fabrizio mumbled something about Ermal being a bit drunk and him taking him home, and then, he hurried to follow the vampire, ignoring the young man, James his name had been, who tried to step in his way; to clear what had happened here, to help, or maybe just to be able to share a piece of hot gossip once both Ermal and Fabrizio had left. Whatever it was, he didn’t achieve his goal, for Fabrizio already was storming down the narrow staircase, and outside, he could see Ermal’s suit vanishing around a corner. He ran there, and found himself in a narrow side street, abandoned except for the vampire who was standing there, his face towards one of the dirty brick walls, his body still slightly trembling in rage. The man seemed to sense Fabrizio before he could hear his silent steps at the pavement, and he turned around.

 

“Care to tell me why you saw it necessary to step in there and cause a scene, Fabrizio?”, Ermal snarled, and his voice sounded sharp enough to be able to cut through steel. 

But Fabrizio didn’t flinch, didn’t startle, didn’t take a step back. He just continued to look at Ermal, at how white the knuckles of his right hand were, with how tight he was pressing it into a fist, and how relaxed the fingers of his left hand were holding the violin, gently, like a lover’s caress.

Fabrizio sighed. “You can’t tell me that you are absolutely convinced that you would have had yourself under control there. And none of us should be too carefree in letting our secrets slip through, especially when surrounded by at least fifty people.”

“Don’t _you_ tell me anything about control, you don’t fucking know me!”

“Maybe I don’t know you, but I can see that this instrument has a high personal value for you, and he was an idiot, but you really should be more careful. At least try to. Though I can imagine that-“

"Oh really, _can you_ imagine what it's like? To watch all the people that you love die in what seems to be the blink of an eye? To lose everyone, to be unable to protect those who would have deserved it the most? Can you imagine what it’s like to be _alone_? To have not a single soul _alive_ on this world who cares about you? To have one friend, one person who loves you, and that's it? And you know it'll be like that forever, and that you'll never, that you'll never see them again, no matter in what you believe, which pretty pictures religions paint, even if you’d ignore that they’d only offer you a place in hell?! No chance for an afterlife, no nothing, cause you can’t fucking die? Can you imagine what it’s like to realize that you’ve forgotten their faces, their voices, the way their laughs sounded? And then, try to wrap your mind around the idea of having nothing, _nothing_ left except this one-", and where Ermal had been shouting before, his voice now broke.

The fire in Ermal's dark eyes seemed to have been burned out by the bitter salt of tears, and after an attempt to speak, one that became nothing but a shaky exhale of a breath he didn't need, he sat down at the sidewalk.

 

Fabrizio stood there, at midnight on an abandoned side street in London, and he didn't know what to do. His fingers brushed the dagger in his pocket, all the possibilities, and he closed them around the cold metal. Before he sat down at the sidewalk as well, next to Ermal. Their shoulders only were inches apart, and the hand holding the knife was positioned right between them. Which would make stabbing the vampire harder, so much harder than if he had sat down at his other side. Fabrizio knew this, knew it oh so well, just like he knew that sitting down next to him meant giving up an advantage in a possible fight. And yet, that was just what he did. He sat down next to Ermal, and was silent.

For once, the snowfall had stopped, the clouds taking a short break in burrowing the world in crystals and white fluff, and when the wind picked up, moved them a little to this or that direction, a piece of the sky behind them got revealed. It looked like thick grey fabric ripped apart to reveal a smooth black skin behind; a skin blessed by diamonds of pure light as if they were freckles. For the first time since he had arrived in England, Fabrizio was able to see the stars. Just for a moment, one cloud revealing them before the next swallowed the light again, but he watched it in fascination. All this beauty up in the sky, hidden and yet there, waiting for a moment to reveal itself into the darkness, and the silence. The silence that finally got broken.

"I’m sorry", Ermal whispered, staring at the sky just like Fabrizio had been before. Only that now, the Roman wasn't anymore. His gaze wandered towards the man sitting next to him.

"She belonged to my mom", he continued, a couple of words turning into a sentence, an explanation, one that tugged at Fabrizio's heart.

"He had no right to touch her", Fabrizio just said, and noticed a muscle moving in Ermal's cheek. As if a smile was lingering underneath his skin, and Fabrizio realized that he wanted to bring it out. Wanted to see this man, this monster, his enemy _smiling_ , wished to see him happy rather than drowning in despair like he had been just minutes ago.

"Really, I'm glad you've been there. Thank you", and Ermal’s voice was steady now. Only that it sounded more guarded than earlier, at least than in their conversation - he sounded like when he had been talking to the other party guests, emotions having fled his voice as well as his accent he only let slip through in carefree moments as it seemed.

"Well I'm glad you didn't decide to have a drink before we were able to solve the situation otherwise."

Now, Ermal actually smiled, and Fabrizio was _happy_ about that. At least a little.

And they both had thoughts dancing through their minds, words that wanted to break free, wanted to dare to, but ultimately, the two of them stayed silent. No more sentences, no memories shared, no tales of letters, of empty houses, of beloved faces falling apart. Ermal sensed how there was no _need_ to explain himself further, that this wasn't a "give me a good enough explanation or I'll kill you" - situation. No, he had trusted Fabrizio here, had been _honest_ , even if this honesty had been born from anger rather than a feeling of safety in the other man's thoughts, and yet, he didn't regret it. The facts, the hints at more truths, he almost was convinced that Fabrizio wouldn't use them as an ammunition against him. Almost.

"I can imagine some of the things that you described, because I know them", Fabrizio admitted, a truth being carried away by the cold winter winds.

At that, Ermal looked towards Fabrizio again, and his smile was different from before. Because it nearly seemed to be drowning in sadness, and yet, Fabrizio found comfort in it - rarely in his life had he felt so _understood._

 

And in that exact moment, the sound of church bells was expelling the silence that had settled between them once again, though now, it had been a rather comfortable silence. On instinct, Fabrizio counted along to the strikes. Midnight. He remembered what Ermal had proposed earlier, of course he did, but the vampire didn’t seem too eager to start a fight right now. Midnight came and went away, and nothing changed. While at the same time, it did – because both of them registered very well that the other wasn’t trying to go after one’s own life here. That they just continued to sit there, for a few more minutes, until Ermal rose to his feet. And, after a second of hesitation, he offered Fabrizio his violin-free hand. Fabrizio took it, elegant fingers as cold as ice intertwining with his own, and he allowed Ermal to pull him too his feet. And they stood there, suddenly quite close together, closer than they had been at the party. And even then, Fabrizio had been able to feel sparkles of something like tension flying between them. Those only seemed to intensify now, and it nearly was a tempting thought, to see where they might lead, what a fire they might light.

“Have you got any plans for tomorrow, Fabrizio?”, Ermal asked, and for the first time, the way that he said Fabrizio’s name didn’t sound like a challenge. 

“I was planning to do some sightseeing. How come you ask?”

“Well, your company doesn’t seem to be too terrible, so I thought maybe we could share some more time, ideally without annoyances interrupting us every two minutes?”

“Are you proposing to show me around?”

“Maybe I am. Would you say yes?”

“To a vampire being my tourist guide in London?”, Fabrizio laughed, “What could ever go wrong there? Yes, I indeed would say yes.”

“Fine. Tell me your hotel’s address and I will pick you up. Shall we say at 11 tomorrow morning?”

Fabrizio nodded and told Ermal the name of his hotel. And then, the vampire was gone, vanished around a corner in a speed that was fast enough to remind Fabrizio of the fact that he was dealing with anything but a human here. He stared at the spot where the man had been standing earlier, and took a few deep breaths. What an evening – where Fabrizio had expected the sight of the Tower Bridge to be the most impressive event of the day, it paled in comparison to the events at the party now. Or rather, in comparison to making the acquaintance of a certain Ermal Meta. And Fabrizio thought about many things there, but his final thought before leaving the side alley caused him to smile. Because he realized that for the first time, he was rather happy about the fact that a vampire had managed to get away from him. And that he was looking forward to seeing him again. Still with a smile, Fabrizio shook his head. Maybe he was losing his mind.

 

Fabrizio slept surprisingly well in his hotel bed, and after a breakfast consisting of a variety of things that didn’t look tempting at all, he stepped out of the entrance. A young man in a red uniform offered to call a carriage for him, but Fabrizio politely declined, and let him know that he would be picked up. A nod from the hotel employee, a few moments of waiting, and then, Fabrizio spotted a familiar figure walking in his direction. Ermal was wearing a blue shiny jacket today, together with an easy smile, and leather shoes polished enough to reflect the light of the streetlamps that still were turned on.

“Good morning”, Ermal greeted once he had reached Fabrizio, and extended his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to see you”, Fabrizio answered, a challenge swinging along in his words like it had so often been doing in Ermal’s, while he shook the other man's hand. 

“I thought maybe I could show you may favourite park at first?”

“Lead the way”, Fabrizio agreed, and they started to cross the street.

“Have a pleasant day, gentlemen!”, the hotel employee called after them, and Fabrizio smiled. Because he could actually imagine that it might become a pleasant day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to "Love will find a way" by Alphaville on repeat while writing this chapter, so, if you wanna try out a new song, take a listen ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who would have thought that one little song that I heard one evening in May might have the power to shape my year of 2018 so much; to bless me with wonderful songs to discover, artists to fall in love with, inspiration to write, a language to learn, and, most importantly, with beautiful people who've become my friends ❤
> 
> And I wish all of you a wonderful year of 2019; may all of your dreams come true, and your every day life be decorated with a spark of magic here and there! ❤

_**London, 1895, a few days before Christmas** _

Fabrizio followed Ermal through crowded streets and around corners surrounded by the smell of baked goods, past gaslamps flickering fearlessly against the darkness that the non-visible sun caused, along houses that got smaller and less fancily decorated in marble and stucco, until finally, they did arrive at the high steel gates of a park; dark metal striving towards the clouded sky in elegant and sharp lines. The two men walked into the park, Ermal providing at comment about its history here and there, while Fabrizio mostly was listening. Watching. Admiring.

Crisp ice crystals covered every surface visible, making the trees, streetlamps and rooftops look as if they had been covered in glittering sugar, and the sparkling frost was captivating the eyes of a certain Roman more than anything else. He could imagine that the whole picture would look even more beautiful, maybe even with a touch of surreal beauty, in bright daylight, but then again, he nearly was glad that right now, it didn’t. Because a day that held the promise of the sun bravely fighting her way through the thick winter clouds would have robbed him of his company, and Fabrizio saw no point in denying that the enjoyed taking this walk not alone, at least to himself.

Ermal was a silent presence at his side when they made their way deeper into the nearly abandoned Hyde Park, and Fabrizio started to wonder if one of them ever would break this silence, if it was _worth_ being broken when it did feel so good. And just then, he felt a touch at his shoulder. Quickly, he turned to the side, to find out what Ermal had wanted, why he had stopped him, why he seemingly found it appropriate to just place his fingers on Fabrizio’s shoulder; their touch so cold that he could feel it through the wool of his coat. Why he seemingly deemed it appropriate to _keep_ those fingers there, even now, as he had Fabrizio’s full attention. But before Fabrizio could dig deeper into these questions, Ermal raised his hand, his other hand, one _still_ at the shoulder, and pointed towards a frost covered field in front of them.

 

“When they held the first World Exhibition here in ’51, they built a giant glass palace over there, quite a revolutionary project back then, because it was deconstructable, and therewhile no less beautiful. Quite the opposite, it’s a sight for sore eyes.”

“What happened to it?”, Fabrizio asked, after another look towards the empty frosted grass, where there certainly was no crystal palace hiding.

“They moved it. Now the whole area where it’s standing is called Crystal Palace, so you can imagine that it leaves quite an impression. The rooftop is built to resemble a water lily, and thanks to this form it’s incredibly sturdy. I’m sure it will stand for a long time still, allowing people to get impressed by what a little bravery combined with a sense for beauty can create.”

“You’re interested in architecture?”

“Not in particular. I’m interested in extraordinary things, and people who can achieve them”, Ermal explained, while letting his eyes glide above the park’s white glittering plains, 

“How about you?”

“Not personally, or, well, maybe a little – I’ve once loved an architect, so I presume some interest managed to infect me as well.”

Fabrizio couldn’t have said _why_ he had shared this piece of information, here, in the middle of a foreign city, to a stranger, a man who could kill him in a moment if he wanted to, a monster whose heart had to be colder than the frost around. And yet, Fabrizio had spoken. And, even more curiously, he didn’t regret it. 

Ermal didn’t answer this statement, at least not with words – he looked at Fabrizio, and once again, something like a deep understanding was to be spotted in the depths of his dark eyes. And for a second, he tightened the hold of his hand a little, squeezed Fabrizio’s shoulder, as if in a silent gesture of support – Fabrizio’s shoulder, that had completely forgotten the presence of the foreign fingers touching it, or at least chosen to ignore that this should feel like something extraordinary. Like something that shouldn’t be there. Instead, Fabrizio had nearly gotten used to Ermal’s fingers at his shoulder; nearly had found _comfort_ in their tightening. 

After a second of wondering if he should dare to, resulting in the decision that yes, what was there to lose ( _so much, soso much that was on the line; most of all, Fabrizio’s own heart_ ), Fabrizio allowed himself to shoot a smile in Ermal’s direction. Small, but nevertheless sincere. And Ermal smiled back – not dangerous, not flirty, and yet, there once again seemed to be something like a hidden meaning to that smile. Only that Fabrizio couldn’t decipher it yet.

 

“Have you been there, for the exhibition?”, Fabrizio asked, after another moment filled with smiles that seemed to say things that their words couldn’t express, couldn’t even think of yet; asked to fill a silence that was bordering on becoming something else. Something they weren’t ready for yet. 

“Oh but Fabrizio, this has been happening in 1851, you should listen better”, Ermal said, his voice all serious, but an amused glimmer somewhere in his eyes.

“I’m listening to you just fine. And my question still stands.”

At that, Ermal laughed, his voice clear and melodic like church bells cutting through the ice-cold silence.

“You can’t possibly be implying that I look old enough to have visited the exhibition 44 years ago? This would make me, what, 50? 60? You should get glasses maybe. My hair’s not actually white, that’s just the snow.”

Fabrizio could help neither the smile nor the automatic flickering of his eyes towards the other man’s hair. That indeed looked nearly white, covered in snow as it was – the crystals weren’t melting in his curls like they did in Fabrizio’s hair, which maybe resulted in his missing body heat, or the snowflakes just admired the image of themselves in the middle of those glorious curls too much to simply melt away forever. And yes, Fabrizio had thought of Ermal’s curls as _glorious_ , and this was another thing that he right now didn’t have the time or the thought capacity to dig into. He only knew that in that moment, Ermal, with his dark hair covered in what looked to be thousands of tiny shards of diamonds, a smile still on his lips and his eyes curiously staring at Fabrizio, rather looked like he had danced out of a fairytale, than crawled out of a horror story.

“I’ve been to a World Exhibition actually”, Ermal broke the silence, his voice a little softer than before, “but that was last year, in Milan.”

“And how was it there; did you like it?”

“Oh yes, it was very enjoyable. It rained for a whole week so that granted us with enough time to explore everything, and they introduced a cable railway, something to magically take you towards the top of a mountain. It’s such an ambiguous idea, and I would love to actually try it out in the mountains – maybe one day, there’ll be more of those, providing people with the opportunity to explore so much beauty, and if we’re lucky, one of them might also be operating at night. Or in bad weather.”

“When you say _we_ , are you talking about your brother that was mentioned yesterday?”

“I am”, Ermal said, after a second of hesitation. A second in which the promise of what might turn into a friendship founded on _trust_ was strong enough to win the fight against the fear, the caution of giving away details about the person he loved most in the world.

“His name’s Marco?”, Fabrizio prompted, and Ermal nodded at his good memory.

“Indeed. And he’s my brother, though not by-“, and suddenly, Ermal stopped in his speech, stopped his words to _giggle._

Fabrizio watched him, unsure of what to think about this, his eyebrows raising while his face shifted in confusion. Confusion, because it was so much easier to focus on his missing understanding about what on earth might be so very funny here, instead of acknowledging what the carefreeness in Ermal’s face did to his heart.

“Mind if I ask where the joke is in here?”, Fabrizio asked, proud of how only the confusion slipped into his voice, nothing else. Or at least he thought so.

“I was about to say that we’re brothers, _though not by blood_ , because that’s what they say, isn’t it? Except that for us, it’s very true. If there’s anything Marco and me are actually related by, it _is_ blood”, and Ermal finally managed to finish his explanation without any more giggles interrupting, “So let’s say that we are not related by birth, but he’s my brother nevertheless. He found me a long time ago, and ever since then, he’s been protecting me. Marco is my family.”

“I’m glad you’ve got him”, Fabrizio just said, but they both heard the unspoken _“I won’t try to hurt him”_ swinging along with his words. And only when the vampire did relax at this Fabrizio noticed the tension that had slipped into the man’s body.

 

The two men walked further through the park, their conversation drifting back towards lighter topics, more world exhibitions, tales of the one in Milan.

“Sadly, they had no dinosaurs”, Ermal then said, and Fabrizio stopped in his tracks, because that didn’t seem to make sense.

“Dinosaurs?”

“Oh yes! In this very first world exhibition, there were life-sized models of dinosaurs displayed all over Hyde Park, but sadly, they didn’t keep those like they did with Crystal Palace. So I’ve only been able to read about them, but never did I see those myself. And I’d have loved to”, came the explanation, and Fabrizio swallowed away the thoughts that wanted to turn into words in his throat.

Instead, he just nodded, and after a few more minutes, they reached the opposite goal of the park they had started at. So they had walked once through it, and now that he thought about it, Fabrizio noticed that he had no idea how much time had passed. But it might have been an hour, or maybe even more. A rather long time that seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye; hours carried by easy smiles and the sight of snowflakes.

“I was planning to have lunch at the restaurant that James mentioned yesterday”, Fabrizio said, once they both stopped in their tracks in front of the gate, unsure of where to go, of which direction things might take from here on.

“That’s a good address, as far as I’ve heard. You need to turn to the left, and then the third street on the right. It’s not hard to find.”

“Thank you”, Fabrizio said, his mind rapidly searching for something else, something _more_ that he could tell Ermal.

“You’re welcome, truly.”

“And thank you for the walk, too, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Indeed, it was a pleasure for me too”, and Ermal’s sharp teeth were grazing his bottom lip for a moment, before he added, “Maybe you would be interested in going for another walk, together? Tomorrow?”

“Yes!”

“I’m looking forward to it. Shall I pick you up again at your hotel?”, and where Fabrizio’s confirmation had been a little too enthusiastic, a tad too fast, Ermal’s voice sounded absolutely controlled.

They agreed to meet at 10 in the next morning, and said goodbye with a tight handshake. And then, once again, Ermal was gone, more quickly than people usually did. Fabrizio was left standing there, alone, taking a few deep breaths, and the smile stayed on his features all the way it took him to walk towards the restaurant.

 

The remaining day seemed to pass in a blur, and where Fabrizio had planned to actually _do_ something, visit one of the famous churches maybe, he felt as if in the end, he had spent most of his time looking at his tiny golden clock and counting down hours as if he was a young lady waiting for the first ball she was allowed to attend.

Once again, Fabrizio slept rather well, he tried some of the sausage they served at the hotel’s breakfast to discover that it actually wasn’t too terrible, and then, finally, and at the same time, so so soon, he was in Ermal’s company again. His jacket was different from yesterday`s, thick grey wool today, but the smile he wore when he picked up Fabrizio was the very same. He suggested them visiting the Tower together, and Fabrizio was delighted about the idea; especially with the thoughts about how much the Tower Bridge already had impressed him. The story about that, about the magic he had thought to feel that evening, caused Ermal to smile at Fabrizio even brighter, and their conversation turned towards other impressive buildings, places they had been to, sights to open one’s eyes.

When they already could see the Tower Bridge lurking above snow covered rooftops, Ermal suggested going through a few smaller roads, for he was convinced that those would take them towards their goal faster, and of course Fabrizio went along with that. In the first side road, there was not a soul to be seen, but in the second they stepped in, the two man could hear voices. Or rather one voice, male, loud, aggressive, and something that might be another person crying; fighting against the tears but losing. Ermal hurried his steps, Fabrizio following his example, and they only needed to round another corner to see the scene unfold in front of them. A man, maybe in his fifties, bald, not tall but with muscled arms, screaming at a child, a little girl, that tried to curl against the wall as if she wished to vanish into the rough brick stones. 

Before the man even noticed their presence, Ermal already was standing next to him, and not a second to early – the bald man raised his hand, undoubtedly to hit the child, and Ermal caught his arm in his grip. Confusion, fear and anger all flickered above the man’s face, until it settled on annoyance, and spat in Ermal’s face.

“This is none of your business, _sir_ ”, the man snarled, mocking the title he addressed Ermal by, but the vampire chose to ignore him.

Instead, Ermal looked towards the girl, saw her thoughts, the fear in her light blue eyes, how thin her dress was. How badly she was shivering. And Fabrizio saw how Ermal’s face settled into stone.

“Is this man your father?”, he asked, trying to keep the ice out of his voice as far as possible when talking to the child.

“No”, she said, in a small voice, while nevertheless, something about Ermal seemingly caused her to trust him here, “He sends us out to collect m- money for him, but today, it wasn’t much and-“, she hiccupped, and Ermal turned back towards the man.

.

Eyes like black steel focused on the bald man’s face, and with a smirk that revealed some of his glistening sharp teeth, Ermal tightened the hold of his hand. Fabrizio could hear the sound of bones breaking a split second before the man screamed, and then, Ermal threw him towards the opposite wall. The man got up on shaky feet and started to run away, while Ermal crouched down at his knees in front of the little girl.

“Do you know where this man lives?”, Ermal asked, his voice gentle, and the little girl nodded.

She told him an address, and Ermal nodded, while he slowly, oh so slowly, extended one of his hands, and wiped a few tears away from her little cheeks.

“He won’t ever hurt you again”, he whispered, and then, shrugged out of his wool jacket.

Ermal placed it around the little girl’s thin shoulders, the fabric swallowing her as if it was the most luscious coat, and after he had carefully buttoned the jacket closed, Ermal reached into his pants’ pockets, and placed a bunch of coins into her tiny hands.

“Find yourself some place warm to sleep, alright? What’s your name my dear?”

“Betty”, she whispered, and Ermal gifted her with the sweetest smile Fabrizio could imagine.

“Betty. What a lovely name you’ve got! Sleep in a warm bed tonight, buy yourself some food, and I promise that I will look for you again. Right after I’ve dealt with this _man_ ”, and only here, Ermal’s voice turned cold again, “You will be safe, little one, you will be.”

Ermal gently tucked a few of Betty’s blonde curls behind her ear, and got back to his feet, standing next to Fabrizio, who had watched the whole scene unfold in silence. And who, when he found his voice again, had to clear his throat at first, to banish the emotions from stealing his words.

“Betty?”, he said softly, and the girl looked at him now, curious rather than scared, no doubt caused by Ermal’s presence, “take this too”, and with these words, Fabrizio took off his dark blue scarf, and placed it around Betty’s neck.

“Thank you, sirs”, she said, smiling brightly at them, and then she added, wonder present in her voice, “may I ask if you’re, well, if you happen to be two Christmas angels?”

At that suggestion, Fabrizio was speechless, but Ermal softly touched Betty’s hair and shook his head.

“We’re anything but. Though both of us are rather dangerous men, my dear, dangerous towards bad people. And we’ll look out for you. Now go, get yourself out of the cold, little Betty!”

And the silence between Ermal and Fabrizio was heavy enough that they could hear the sound of Betty’s little feet all the way until she left the street. Ermal looked into Fabrizio’s face, and then down, towards his feet, as if he’d rather not see everything that was to be seen there.

“It’s not like I’d have needed that jacket anyways”, Ermal then said, still towards his shoes, and Fabrizio would have bet all the money he had paid for his whole England trip, that if Ermal had blood running through his veins, he would have blushed in that moment.

“Something tells me that you also would have done that if you were able to feel the cold.”

One more smile at Ermal, and then Fabrizio turned around, continued his walk into the direction they had originally been going for. Ermal followed him, in just a thin shirt but with a warm feeling somewhere in his chest. And both of them expected the day to continue rather pleasant, to maybe become even more lovely than yesterday had been, but Fortuna didn’t grant them with this luck.

 

They nearly had reached the Tower, stepped into a side street even more narrow than those earlier, but one that would bring them so much closer towards their destination, and in there, Ermal and Fabrizio once more got interrupted in their plans by an unexpected meeting with a person rather unpleasant. Only that this time, Ermal froze in his steps completely, and Fabrizio could sense how very wrong something was here. And it didn’t take long for him to realize just _what_ it was, because a man stepped into their view, and he undoubtedly was a vampire just like Ermal was one.

“Atticus”, Ermal greeted, his voice cold, and the other vampire, Atticus as it seemed, looked at him in disdain. That turned to outright disgust once his eyes focused on Fabrizio.

“As if it wouldn’t be bad enough that someone like you, some dirty rat from the continent would just turn up here in my city, in _my <_ territory and walk around, behave as if it would be theirs, now you’re also strolling around with _that_ -“, and the glance that he shot at Fabrizio caused the Italian to shiver, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it. 

And all of Fabrizio’s senses were screaming at him, yelling to get away, from this street, this monster, from red eyes who seemed as if they wanted to tell him in just how many pieces his body would be ripped apart; from Ermal, whose behavior he couldn’t predict, who had tensed next to him, who started to speak in a voice several degrees colder than it even had been in his greeting.

“Do you think you’ve got _any_ right to criticize with whom I decide to spend my time?”, and Ermal tilted his head a bit to the side, as if he was actually expecting an answer here, as if that would have been a question that asked for one.

“Well, I would have left _you_ alone, at least you’re one of my own kind, even if a dirty and annoying specimen, but with _him?_ I can sense that he’s not quite human, just as well as you can, and he smells like those who killed so many of our brothers and sisters already. Did you ask him how many it have been? Your new _best friend_ ”, and he spat the words in Ermal’s face, not spearing one look at Fabrizio anymore, even though he was talking about him, “Did he tell you how many of us he has murdered? No? Why doesn’t this surprise me. Now if you think he won’t kill _you_ when he has the opportunity, then you’re making a mistake, _Ermal_. One that could be your last. So I’m giving you this one chance to stand with your own kind and end this.. situation. It’s your choice.”

“I fear I have to decline your oh so kind offer, because I’ve just been in the middle of such a pleasant conversation with Fabrizio here, and I can’t possibly allow you to kill him before we’ve finished our talk”, Ermal said, and Fabrizio’s senses were sharpened enough for him to be sure that it wasn’t just his imagination but their reality, how Ermal slightly moved in his standing, a little closer to him, a little in front of him. Which the other vampire of course noticed too.

“Okay. Fine. Then I’m glad to get rid of the two of you. And to make things a little shorter, even though maybe not necessarily less.. shall we say, _unpleasant_ for you, I should inform you that I’ve brought company. That’s only fair, isn’t it? The both of you being killed by two of us.”

The vampire, Atticus, smiled, sharp teeth blinking under deadly pale lips, and his eyes caught something behind Fabrizio’s back. Something, rather someone, that caused his smirk to get even uglier, and Fabrizio could feel a hostile glance staring at him from behind. He turned around in one swift movement, his back now facing Ermal’s, nearly touching it but not quite, and fixed the man who had stepped into the alley with his eyes. 

 

Surrounded by not one, not two, but actually three vampires, that never had happened to Fabrizio before. Though even bigger than his worry about his heart being the only one that was beating in this abandoned corner, about having it stop soon, was his surprise about how he saw one of the monsters with ice in their veins as nothing close to a thread. As an ally, if he was honest. As someone he nearly could _trust_. Fabrizio was no one to trust easily, but with Ermal, there was just something about the man.. Something about how alive his eyes looked when he smiled, about his behavior with little Betty earlier, about his humor as well as the darkness that sometimes managed to shine through his words from past times. It just made Fabrizio feel understood. And he realized that even if he was not sure if the word _life_ fit all too well, his own was not the only one he cared about in here. Even if Ermal’s heart was not beating, Fabrizio didn’t like the thought of a stake being rammed through it, and he’d like to do whatever he could to keep that from happening.

And seemingly, Ermal’s thoughts were not too different from Fabrizio’s, because he took the hint of a step back. Not to get away from the vampire he had been talking to earlier, of that Fabrizio was convinced. Ermal might be many things, but a coward certainly was none of them. No, what he did was position himself closer to Fabrizio, close enough for the tiniest whisper to be carried towards his ears.

"On the first opportunity that presents itself, you run away from here." 

"No", and there was something so calm, something so _determined_ in Fabrizio’s voice that Ermal paused. After a second of silence, in which both of their enemies just watched them in what seemed to be amusement, Ermal voiced what was on his mind, just matter of factly.

“They are going to kill you.”

“They’re going to kill both of us, and as we’ve got a better chance here together, I’d propose we also fight together. You still wanted to show me the city by night, remember? And we could visit your Crystal Palace? There might be a slightly better chance for that to happen if I’m not a bloodless corpse and your head isn’t separated from your pretty neck!”

Had Fabrizio not been hissing those words while adrenaline was pumping through his veins, most of his focus still on the vampire who was looking at him, hungry, oh so hungry, he might have noticed it. Had they been somewhere safe, looking into each other’s eyes, Fabrizio might have realized how he just had called Ermal’s neck _pretty_. He might have swallowed the word, or stumbled over it, might have looked away to not stare at Ermal’s skin that long ago had lost every ability to blush. But right now, it wasn’t like this. They soon would be fighting with their lives on the line, and him admitting that his ally might look rather aesthetically pleasing was not a fact to panic about at the moment. That could be left for calmer times and lonelier moments, if they’d both survive to see those.

 

Another second passed, the silence the most dangerous one that Fabrizio ever had experienced, and then, at the same moment, both of their opponents sprang into action. Fabrizio saw a shadow sprinting towards him and barely managed to throw himself to the side in the very last moment; unable to look out at Ermal for now, as the other vampire, Atticus’ friend, started to circle him. A numb pain spread from his left shoulder, where he just had landed at the pavement, but now was not the time to dwell on that. Now it was the time for Fabrizio to grab his silver dagger tightly, and to start an attack by himself. The vampire seemed to realize what the weapon was made of, what it might do to him, and therefore, he got a little more careful in his own attacks. And Fabrizio had been in the business for long enough to know exactly how to make use of that. It wasn’t an easy fight, not at all, and once, when the vampire’s iron fist connected hardly with his cheek, knocking him to the ground, Fabrizio almost feared that he might lose here. Almost. But not quite, because he wasn’t one to give up, not now and not ever. So he stood up again, on shaky feet and with adrenaline silencing his pain, and threw himself at the vampire.

And it worked. As if the goddess of luck had decided to bless him, Fabrizio managed to raise his hand just in the right moment, stabbing the silver dagger deep into the vampire’s stomach. They crashed to the ground together, and while Fabrizio rose again, at least until he was crouching at his knees, he doubted that the vampire ever would be able to do that again. For the skin visible through the cut in his clothes started to turn black, like ashes after days and days of sad rain falling on it, and the evil fire in his eyes already started to burn out. 

“Seems like you can’t win this fight”, Fabrizio hissed at him, and already thought about if Ermal might need his help in his own fight against Atticus, what he maybe could do there.

“Even if I won’t win”, the vampire whispered, his voice becoming thin like wrinkled old paper, “Both of you will lose.”

And with that, he grabbed the dagger, pulled it out of his own stomach and burried it into Fabrizio’s side.

Fabrizio was too surprised to register the pain, and he felt the warm blood running down his thigh while the vampire in front of him turned to dust. And when he looked towards the snow at his feet, he found it sprinkled in red; drops of blood falling into the white, as if they were mulberries in a frosted cake…


	4. Chapter 4

_**London, 1895, a few days before Christmas** _

Fabrizio took or a deep breath, or at least he would have liked to – it didn’t quite work, because when his body finally registered the pain, it did so with full force. His whole side felt as if it was being torn open by fiery teeth, and together with the panic that began to settle inside his mind, it took Fabrizio’s breath away. He felt like a fish being thrown onto dry ground, unable to receive any oxygen, and on top of that, robbed of his bones, because when he fell, he could do nothing to catch himself, nothing to prevent himself from landing in the already bloodied snow; his wound touching the ground in such a forceful way that it added a threatening dark frame around the window of his consciousness. Never in his life had breathing been so hard for Fabrizio, and at the same time, never so important. He tried to focus on that, and that only, his lungs greedily sucking in the bitingly cold air, but the shallowness of his breaths was hard to ignore. And even if it hadn’t been for the pain, the fastness of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears surely would have been a reason to worry. Or the unsteadiness of it. 

And yet, there was something that managed to catch Fabrizio’s attention. Because when his eyelids fluttered open (and he couldn’t even remember having closed them while falling, or after that), his eyes got drawn to the only movement visibly in the otherwise abandoned alley. His vision was a little blurry, from tears that Fabrizio hadn’t registered either, but that didn’t matter, as he still was able to make out the two figures fighting a few meters away from him. Ermal, in just his thin green satin shirt, who right now got slammed against a wall by Atticus, shortly after shaking himself, getting back to his feet and into an attack. 

And Fabrizio wanted to do something, anything, wanted to do nothing as badly as _help_ , but he couldn’t. Couldn’t convince his body to cooperate, couldn’t get up from where he had collapsed into his own blood, couldn’t lift a hand or even raise his voice. Everything he could do was to lay there, while the biting December air submitted the pain caused by his wound for another one, and wasn’t there nearly something peaceful about this? Fabrizio watched an ice crystal dancing the last few centimeters towards the ground, and felt himself relax. In his life, he surely had imagined worse ways to die than slowly falling asleep in the snow, and when his eyes finally fluttered closed, Fabrizio’s last thought was that he hoped that Ermal would win this fight; that he’d get out of this safely and be happy…

 

The sweet rush of victory still was burning hot in Ermal's veins when he finally had managed to snap Atticus’ neck and turned around, a smile towards Fabrizio already forming on his lips. Because earlier, he had heard a sound, a scream, one that certainly was inhuman, and a split second sacrificed for a glance sidewards had confirmed his suspicion, because he had spotted Fabrizio above a vampire slowly turning to dust. And then, his own fight had demanded his full attention again, so Ermal couldn’t be quite sure if Fabrizio was still there, he might finally have listened to his earlier words and gotten himself to safety, but somewhere deep inside, Ermal knew that he wouldn’t have. And that knowledge, that certainty, that _trust_ , it was another reason to be happy about, on top of them winning this fight. Winning it together. 

When Ermal’s eyes fully took in the scene in front of him, the blossoming smile died a violent death on his lips. Because he wasn’t faced with Fabrizio standing there, maybe a little out of breath but smiling at him, a blush painting his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes, and he also didn’t see an empty alley. Though now, he wished that he did. He wished to see nothing but snow and cold walls, or even the sudden appearance of a bunch of Atticus’ friends, or an army of vampire hunters, or a ray of sunshine, literally _anything_ but this. Because he did see a vampire hunter, just one, one who had become _Fabrizio_ in his head long ago, had turned from an enemy to an interesting companion that he could spend his time, share his thoughts with to an ally and maybe also to.. something else; and this hunter, the only one he cared about, was laying there in a pile of red, red blood, as if he had fallen asleep on a bed of anemones. Only that Ermal feared he might not be asleep.

In the blink of an eye, Ermal was at Fabrizio’s side, sinking to his knees in the snow. He stared at Fabrizio’s face, nearly as pale as the snow, only that the snow wasn’t pale right now, wasn’t white, was anything but – it was dark red, and Ermal quickly spotted the reason for that. Blood was quickly sipping through the rough fabric of his coat, and, shortly after, through the fingers of Ermal’s left hand that he tightly pressed against the wound. When he concentrated, he was able to hear a heartbeat, though it was weak, oh so weak, and a little unsteady. But nevertheless, it was _there_. Ermal tried to focus on that, and only that. Not on the blood itself, _Fabrizio’s_ blood, on the smell of it in his nose, the itching feeling underneath his skin. Not on the fact that the reason why Fabrizio even had been here, had been hurt, might be actually dying was Ermal. There was time for that later. Now, he needed to focus. Because not all was lost; actually, nothing was, nothing should be.

 

Ermal oh so gently touched the fingers of his right hand to Fabrizio’s face, feeling the warmth underneath his skin (though it wasn’t quite as warm as it should be, just like his cheeks didn’t look quite as sunkissed as they should), and when he moved them, oh so softly stroking along Fabrizio’s cheekbone, he saw the man’s eyelids flutter.

“Fabrizio?”, Ermal whispered, and to his immense delight, he shortly after was looking into a pair of brown eyes.

Confused, scared, in pain, yes, Fabrizio’s eyes were all of this, as well as a little unfocused, but he still managed to recognize Ermal, or so it seemed. Because the shadow of a smile flickered over his lips, and his eyes looked so much warmer than his skin felt.

"I'm sorry", Fabrizio whispered, his voice weak and silent as if a single determined breeze of wind could blow it out. And Ermal couldn't remember feeling such a pain in his heart in years, and not _ever_ when the situation wasn't in one way or another connected to his family. When it was about a man who basically was a stranger, who should be one, when he felt like anything but.

"There's no need to be, absolutely none, you did so well here and it all will be fine-", Ermal tried to reassure him, while his fingers still were gently wandering over Fabrizio’s skin, their faces oh so close. Close enough to see it in Fabrizio’s eyes, how very much he didn’t believe him here.

"I've just been stupid", Fabrizio interrupted, his words fast now, heavily dialected, nearly as if he feared that if he wouldn't hurry through them now, he'd run out of time to say what he wanted to, "I've already had him, and I should have just walked out of his reach, but I didn't think of this, and now-", his voice trailed off while his eyes flickered towards where Ermal's left hand was pressed against his stomach.

"You'll be okay, _I promise_ that you will be"

"Of course I'll be", Fabrizio agreed, softly, and Ermal hated everything about this sentence. The weakness in his voice, how it sounded like he was rather comforting Ermal than being convinced himself, how it seemed to be oh so clearly a lie from Fabrizio's point of view. But most of all, Ermal hated how right after those words, Fabrizio's eyelids fluttered closed, his warm brown eyes being swallowed once again, his long dark lashes resting against his cheeks that looked so much paler than they should.

 

Out of instinct, Ermal grabbed Fabrizio’s face with both of his hands, lifting it up a little, and then he froze. Because his left hand was covered in blood. Warm, red blood. Fabrizio’s blood. Ermal bit his own bottom lip, hard, razor sharp teeth cutting his skin open, and he felt his hands starting to shake from the effort it took. The effort to not do something here that he’d regret for an eternity. 

It was hard for Ermal to force his eyes away from the blood, to focus on anything else, but once he had looked into Fabrizio's eyes again, he managed. They had opened again, just a little bit, and in their dark brown depths, he saw an emotion he hadn't expected at all. _Forgiveness_. And something told Ermal that this was not only the man forgiving him for being the cause of them getting into these circumstances, no, it was something.. deeper. It was the kind of forgiveness one would whisper with their last breath, and that couldn't be, Fabrizio just _couldn't_ be hurt that bad… And though all the while Ermal tried his best to subconsciously convince himself that this was the point, he also was aware that it wasn't. Because all his senses were filled with the smell of Fabrizio's blood, the _desire_ for it, and while Ermal's whole body froze in place, his eyes fixed on Fabrizio’s own, which might have cost him more willpower than he would have thought to be capable of, Fabrizio was forgiving him for the inevitable consequence of this day's events. He was forgiving Ermal for killing him. Because he didn't need to be hurt terribly enough for a wound itself to end his life - the amount of blood he already had lost should be enough when one finds themself in an abandoned backyard with no company but a vampire. And this exactly had been the plan of Atticus’ friend here, Ermal realized. Even when he had been aware that his own existence was lost beyond saving, he wanted to punish Ermal with one filled with nothing but regrets. Only that he had been wrong there. Ermal would _prove_ him wrong.

Ermal leaned forward, and rested his forehead against Fabrizio’s. He breathed in, deeply, as if his lungs would still crave oxygen after all those years, and let the smell of the blood fill all of his senses. And there, somewhere underneath it, lingered a smell that wasn’t metallic, but nevertheless tempting. A smell that was Fabrizio’s. A smell that reminded him of challenging glances, secret smiles, minds thinking alike. A smell that was worth fighting for, because _Fabrizio_ was. Ermal’s feet were digging into the snow, his whole body slightly trembling now, and a tear was rolling down his cheek. But at the same time, he knew that this was a fight that he would win. That they would win. His forehead still against Fabrizio’s, Ermal briefly closed his eyes, and whispered a promise.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

Marco had known Ermal for a long time already, had witnessed him in an endless variety of situations; had held his hand when he was scared, seen his eyes sparkle in joy when he was happy, hugged him close when his heart was silently breaking, but never before, he had heard Ermal’s voice quite as _panicked_ as when it cut through the silence on this cold December day. As soon as he heard it, Marco sprang up from his comfortable chair, the book he had been reading falling to the floor unnoticed, and a second later he appeared at the door of their house, prepared to see the worst, scared of what that might be. And what he saw was Ermal, shaking, as if the fact that his jacket was missing would have an effect, and in his arms, his arms that were shiny and red from fresh blood, there was.. someone. 

A man, and Marco suspected who this might be; the tears he saw glistening in Ermal’s eyes only confirming his suspicion. He remembered it, how Ermal had told him first about meeting a hunter of supernatural beings, one of those men and women with a hint of angel blood running through their veins who were able to see them for what they actually were, the monsters lingering behind their pale faces, by accident at that party. Remembered how worried he had gotten, for Ermal’s safety, that this hunter might have followed him to their home, and how surprised when Ermal then had told him more. And he had been skeptical, oh so skeptical, but there had been such a sincerity in Ermal’s voice, such a light in his eyes when he talked about this hunter, this enemy whom he always called _Fabri_ in his tales, that Marco had promised Ermal to try not to judge the man without knowing him.

Ermal had been so happy in the morning at the perspective of meeting his hunter again, but seemingly, something had gone wrong. Very wrong. Marco looked into Ermal’s face and glanced towards his lips, that he found shaking but clean of any blood. And this didn’t fit into the explanation that Marco’s mind had come up with for what he was seeing here.

“Ermal, caro, what happened?”, and while he asked that, Marco stepped to the side, so Ermal could carry the person he assumed to be Fabrizio into their house.

And then, while Marco opened the buttons of the man’s blood drenched jacket, carefully cut open his shirt, tried to turn off all his senses and just have his hands focus on memories, motions they had learned long ago, Ermal told him what had happened. How he hadn’t been losing control, like Marco had first assumed when he saw Ermal with his bleeding friend in his arms, but rather kept all of his control, demonstrated an iron will, and once he wasn’t busy with saving a life here, Marco would have to tell Ermal how proud he was of him. It had been some time since Marco’s time as a surgeon, but there are some things you don’t forget, some tools and herbs he still had in a bag in his bedroom, and so, with care, steady hands and some help from Ermal’s, that still were shaking a little, he managed to do what he could for Fabrizio. And he was positive that it had been enough. Because even though the wound had been bleeding a lot, it hadn’t been too deep, the knife luckily not touching any of his organs, and if he’d have time to recover, he should be alright. At least Marco hoped so – in the interest of the man about whom he had heard so many nice things, and most of all, in the interest of his best friend, his brother, who carried Fabrizio to his bed after they had wrapped him in bandages and gave him some more things against his pain; holding him like one would do with his bride, and then laying him onto his mattress as gently as if he had been carved out of glass.

Marco moved to stand by Ermal’s side next to the bed, and placed an arm around his friend’s shoulders. 

“And you really think that he will be alright?”, Ermal whispered, silent enough that they could still hear Fabrizio’s breathing in the room, steadier now, so much steadier than it had been before.

“I’m sure that he will be.”

And with those few simply words, the tears that Ermal had mostly been holding back for the last hours finally broke free. Marco hugged him tight, let him cry into his shoulder, moved his hand along his friend’s back in comfort.

“I thought he had died there”, Ermal whispered, the emotion nearly stealing his voice, and Marco might not have been understanding all of the feelings there, but some things, he did understand very well. One of those was how lucky he could count himself to have been able to help Fabrizio, another that he was looking forward to actually meet him, talk to this man who had become so important to Ermal in such a short time. And the most important thing that Marco realized in that moment was that Ermal might have lost his heart here. He just was not sure if Ermal was aware of that too, or if he would admit it. But now was not the right moment to talk about falling in love, or to even tease Ermal about it, not at all. No, now was the time to hold Ermal close while he slowly calmed down again, to answer his watery smile with a sincere one, and to wrap a blanket around his shoulders once he sat down in a chair at Fabrizio’s side.

 

Fabrizio’s dreams were fleeting and unsteady, just single images, feelings, fears chasing each other. He saw bright red flowers in an endless white desert, felt snowflakes melting at his skin, got chased by a cruel smirk and found safety in the depths of a pair of blood red eyes. Churchbells sounded through his dreams as well as the laughter of people long gone, and when he finally woke up, he opened his eyes slowly and in confusion. And then gasped, because something felt wrong, very wrong – the world seemed to be visible through a thin layer of fog, and his whole body felt numb, but through all of this, a sharp feeling of pain from somewhere around his stomach was screaming at him.

And suddenly, there was another sensation – a hand at the back of his neck, helping him gently to raise his head from the pillow it had rested on, a cold touch at his lips.

“Drink this, it will help against the pain”, and Fabrizio would have done everything this voice told him in that moment.

He swallowed, and after a moment, the pain actually lessened, and when he exhaled now, it was in relief. After a moment of just breathing, being, but mostly, _remembering_ , Fabrizio turned his head to the side, where he was able to look into a familiar face. Was it possible for vampires to turn paler than they already were? Who knew, but Ermal’s skin certainly looked too light even for him, and for a second, Fabrizio worried. But then, their eyes found each other’s, and a bright smile broke out on Ermal’s face. 

Ermal placed the mug he had given Fabrizio to drink at the little table next to the bed and then let his hand fall onto the mattress where his fingers started to play with the blankets, as if they’d need to be occupied with something. 

“Thank you”, Fabrizio whispered, because it was the first thing that came to his mind, and most of all, because it was true. He could remember the attack, the desperation, the certainty to not see another day. Could remember the pain, the tears glistening in Ermal’s eyes, and then, a promise. A promise that he now knew hadn’t been broken. Wouldn’t get broken.

Ermal swallowed, and the emotions lingering in his throat turned the other man’s name into a breathlessly whispered “Bizio”. Fabrizio blinked at that, it was a nickname he hadn’t heard before, and he also wasn’t sure if Ermal actually had meant it as one, or if this just had.. happened, but what he knew for sure was that he liked it.

After a moment of silence, Fabrizio asked Ermal what had happened to Atticus, because it was easy, easier to think about a monster that had wanted to kill him than about a nickname said in a voice as if it was an endearment, and the answer that the other vampire was gone brought a grim smile onto the hunter’s face. Ermal then briefly told that Marco had taken care of Fabrizio’s wound, and there were many things that both of them would have liked to say, but they knew that it wasn’t the right moment. Not for guilt, not for discussions, and certainly not for things even more risky than fighting against two vampires who were out for their lives. 

 

So Ermal just continued his story with how they had given Fabrizio some medicine and how he then had slept. Until now. Silence settled over the room once again, and with him not speaking anymore, Fabrizio found himself without an excuse to stare at Ermal longer. He forced his eyes to get detached from that face, those eyes, those lips, and let them wander through the room. It was tastefully furnitured, cupboards in the colour of warm honey complimenting dark green curtains, and on the shelves, there were multiple signs that this was a place to actually live than to just stay in - little items that might have been found on multiple journeys, books and journals telling of a curious mind, two silver picture frames next to the bed. Though, silver, it couldn't be, could it? Fabrizio was aware well enough how bad that metal was able to hurt a vampire, and so he suspected that the little photographies weren't actually framed by silver, but by something that looked alike. And he wouldn't ask, at least not now, because a question about the frames would go hand in hand with one about the pictures guarded by them, and Fabrizio felt like he already had done enough here, invading Ermal's life, his house, he wouldn't do that to his memories too. So instead, his eyes wandered on once again, and landed at the colourful cover of a book.

Ermal noticed his glance and picked the book up, with gentle fingers and a soft smile. He held it out to Fabrizio, who looked at the picture on the cover, a man with a rather nice hat and a parrot on his shoulder, and read the title.

"Treasure Island?"

Ermal nodded, doing his best to hide the smile that Fabrizio speaking those few words in English caused, because there just was something so special to the sound, something so unusual, something that just was so very much _Fabrizio_.

"Yes, have you heard of it?"

"No, never", Fabrizio said, looking at the book again.

"You're welcome to read it, if, if you'd like to?", and Ermal still held the book a little awkwardly between them, so Fabrizio finally grabbed it.

Once he had carefully opened the pages that gave off a well read and loved impression, Fabrizio smiled. Because on the first page, there were a few words to be spotted, written by hand and in Italian.

_Happy Birthday little brother,_  
_and may the adventures always find you_  
_Ti voglio bene,_  
_Marco_

He flipped the next page, and started to read the first chapter, the first sentences. And quickly, the smile slipped from Fabrizio's face, because he was having difficulties here - reading in English had never been his strength, and there still was the hint of a foggy feeling in his brain, from whatever Ermal might have given him against the pain, so now, the words just seemed to be dancing around each other in his mind, without making much sense. He swallowed, and wondered how he best should tell Ermal this - that he couldn't read this book that clearly meant so much too him, that the language was too much, that he felt like he could sleep for another day, no matter that he had woken up not too long ago. The last thing was his biggest concern, because he didn't want Ermal to feel guilty again, or to worry - it wasn't his fault after all, none of this had been.

Ermal of course noticed that there was something wrong, that Fabrizio's eyes didn't smoothly wander over the page but rather stared at it in desperation, and after a second of hesitation, he rested his hand, or rather the tips of his fingers, a feather light touch, on Fabrizio's shoulder. So gentle, so _hesitant_ , as if he'd nearly expect his touch to be unwelcome, his hand to be slapped away. But it wasn't. Fabrizio seemed to relax under his touch, and encouraged by that, Ermal moved his hand, softly brushed a few strands of dark hair out of Fabrizio's face.

"I could read a little to you tomorrow?", Ermal offered, and smiled in relief when Fabrizio nodded, seemingly happy with the idea.

Even though all the hair that had gotten lost at Fabrizio's forehead had now been reunited with what seemed to be a birdnest on top of his head, Ermal's hand still was there, lightly moving through the soft strands. He noticed how Fabrizio's eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, sleep tugging at him with greedy fingers, and in contrast to the closing of his eyes in that snow covered alley, Ermal wasn't afraid now. Quite the opposite, he felt at peace with the idea of Fabrizio sleeping, recovering more, and that in his bed, where he seemed to feel safe enough to do that.

"Sleep, it's alright. Nothing will happen to you here", Ermal whispered, and though Fabrizio's eyes were closed now, he could spot a smile playing around his lips. Lips that didn't look quite as pale as earlier anymore, and Ermal not too successfully told himself that this was the only reason why he was looking at them.

Fabrizio mumbled something, tiredness blurring the lines between the single words, and Ermal only managed to understand one of them. But that was enough, more than enough, because the word that he did understand was _"stay"_. And that was exactly what Ermal planned to do.

 

While Fabrizio fell asleep, Ermal briefly stood up, to get another blanket from the closet and place it on top of the ones already covering the human in his bed, and after that, he sat down at Fabrizio's side again. Listening closely to his heartbeat, his breathing, the steadiness that both of them had thankfully managed to achieve again. He looked at the colour slowly returning to his face, and then, when Ermal was convinced that Fabrizio had drifted into a deep sleep rather than an unsteady slumber; that he was far, far away in the land of dreams, he leaned forward to place a soft kiss at Fabrizio's forehead…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another song rec - "Moonlight Kissed" by Poets of the Fall ❤️


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say that I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out, and I hope that you'll like it too!! ❤️

_**London, 1895, shortly before Christmas** _

The next time Fabrizio woke up, it was to less pain clouding his thoughts and a hint of music playing somewhere at the edge of his consciousness. He tried to focus on the music, and though he recognized a piano played by fingers knowing exactly what they were doing, how to lure a hint of magic out of this wonderful instrument, Fabrizio didn’t know the piece that was played. But he _wanted_ to get to know it, wanted to try this hauntingly beautiful melody himself, and when the song ended, Fabrizio felt a rush of disappointment. Though this didn’t last long, as the magical sounds were replaced by a beautiful sight once he opened his eyes: there was a vampire, still sitting in that same chair next to the bed, though now in a red silk shirt with the top button open, and the gentle smile on his pale lips was even more captivating to the eyes than the snow-white skin of his chest that was visible.

“Good morning, it’s nice to see you awake Fabrizio”, and the way that Ermal said his name nearly felt as if he’d rather have said something else – Fabrizio realized that he should tell him at some point soon how very much he didn’t mind nicknames, or well, how very much he didn’t mind them when Ermal was the one calling him those.

“Ermal”, Fabrizio greeted with a smile of his own, and then tried to sit up in the bed, which proved to be rather difficult. He exhaled, in what he hoped Ermal would interpret as annoyance rather than pain, and let his head rest against the pillows again.

“Can I help you?”

Ermal actually waited for Fabrizio to nod, and then assisted him in sitting up, not fully, to not put too much pressure to his still fresh wound, but enough to not feel like a patient unable to do anything but laying in bed anymore. To help the other man, Ermal had stood up from his chair, and now he half hovered over Fabrizio, standing with a hand on his shoulder, aware that he should put some distance between them, but at the same time, so very unwilling to do this. Because touching Fabrizio, even through a layer of fabric, felt so much better than it had any right to be, and Ermal found a reassurance in the warmth underneath his fingers, one that was powerful enough to fight against the haunting images of bloodied snow that still lingered behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes. 

 

Fabrizio watched Ermal with curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes, and then remembered something.

“You offered that you would read to me yesterday, right?”, Fabrizio asked, and when there wasn’t an answer right away, he added: “Or did I just dream that?”

“Wouldn’t it rather have been a nightmare than a dream, if it featured a monster like me?”

“No”, he simply disagreed, not going along with the humor that Ermal had tried to put into his voice. “Ermal, I don’t see you as a monster.”

“But shouldn’t you? I’m a vampire after all”, Ermal said in a low voice.

Fabrizio turned his head, to be able to look Ermal fully into the eyes, his own emitting nothing but honesty, and he started to talk.

“I’m sure that most of the thousands of humans in this huge city wouldn’t have helped little Betty the other day, that they would just have walked on without caring about a child in need. And I’m also convinced that pretty much all other vampires that are out there wouldn’t have resisted my blood in that alley. That they wouldn’t even have _wanted_ to, wouldn’t have tried. Wouldn’t have fought. But _you_ did. And I don’t care if your heart is beating, as long as I know that it’s such a good one. And it _is_ , there’s no point in disagreeing with me here”, Fabrizio finished with a gentle little smile.

Ermal said nothing, but his eyes were blown wide, and he carefully sat down at the edge of the bed. After a moment of silence in which both men seemed to be rather fascinated by the pattern of the blanket, Fabrizio shuffled himself a little to the side, to make more space for Ermal, and then he leaned forward a bit. With a little difficulty, Ermal maneuvered his long legs onto the bed, until he was sitting closely to Fabrizio with his back towards the headboard, and then, he took a breath he didn’t need and bravely slid an arm around Fabrizio’s shoulders. The man leaned into the touch, and Ermal was able to hear how fast his heart was beating. And if his own wouldn’t have frozen so long ago, Ermal was sure it would have been beating just as nervously. They stayed like that, just basking in each other’s closeness, and as his thoughts were a whirlwind making no sense at all, Ermal tried to just _feel_. Feel the warmth of Fabrizio so close to him, the soft strands of his hair tickling Ermal’s neck, how relaxed his body was despite Ermal’s ice-cold arm around him, the danger that he was being so close. Nearly as if he was just where he wanted to be.

 

“So, how is it about the reading?”, Fabrizio asked, tilting his head a little upwards from where it was resting against Ermal’s shoulder, and when Ermal looked down at his face, he realized just how very close they were. And he got lost in the view.

“Ermal?”, it came after a moment, and Ermal had never heard Fabrizio’s voice sounding quite this gentle, not even when he had been talking to little Betty.

“Sorry. It’s just, your freckles, I, I counted them.”

“You counted my freckles?”

“Yes. It’s, it’s a vampire thing, we can’t help it, when there is something that could be to count, we have to-“, Ermal rambled, and Fabrizio wondered if it was just the light of the candle close by playing tricks on him, or if vampires actually possessed the ability to blush.

“And how many freckles are there in my face?”, Fabrizio asked in a breathless whisper. 

“Counting the very tiny ones here”, and Ermal touched a fingertip as soft as a butterfly landing to Fabrizio’s cheekbone, “I’m getting to 73.”

Fabrizio just nodded, an expression that was hard to decipher in his eyes, and Ermal was torn. Because there was more he wanted to say, so much more, about how there was a whole galaxy of stars in Fabrizio’s face, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned to the side, picked up the book from the side table and opened it, while Fabrizio nearly snuggled into his side.

Ermal’s gentle voice lured Fabrizio’s imagination towards a far away coast line, and just after a few sentences, he thought he could hear the wind howling from towards the sea, the old wooden planks creaking in the inn when heavily booted feet walked across them, the voices of drunken sailors talking above each other’s. Ermal did his best to change his voice when different characters talked, giving them different accents, and Fabrizio listened with a soft smile on his lips. 

 

After around half an hour, it became harder to listen though, because Fabrizio started to feel sleepy again, and Ermal noticed the man’s head resting heavier at his shoulder. He silently closed the book and carefully put it away, before returning to his previous position – if he got up now, he’d surely wake up Fabrizio, and that couldn’t be good for his healing process. And maybe, just maybe, it also was a rather nice feeling, to have Fabrizio sleeping in his arms. 

Or not quite sleeping yet – when Ermal adjusted the blanket around them, a sleepy eye blinked open at him, and when Fabrizio talked, his voice raspy and his accent rather prominent, Ermal leaned a bit closer, to not miss any of the precious words that might get said.

“Ermal? Have you already looked after Betty again?”

The vampire swallowed, and looked torn.

“No, not yet, I-“, and words left him while he looked at the man in his arms. The man whom he oh so nearly would have lost just a few hours ago, and whom he couldn’t imagine to leave alone right now. While at the same time, he knew that there was a child that needed him, that he promised to help, that he _wanted_ to help. And Fabrizio seemed to read the conflict in Ermal’s elegant features.

“You can go, you know, I’ll be fine on my own for a bit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Go Ermal, send greetings to our little angel”, and with that, Fabrizio demonstratively rolled onto his non-injured side and closed his eyes.

“I will. Sleep well”, Ermal whispered, and then, after a second of hesitation, added a soft “Bizio”.

And while Fabrizio’s eyes stayed closed, the corner of his mouth twitched in the hint of a smile.

 

The third time that Fabrizio woke up in Ermal’s bedroom, he was alone, and the dim light shining through the window indicated a cloudy afternoon. He sat up, gladly noticing that this was a little easier than earlier, when he hadn’t managed without Ermal’s help, and just when Fabrizio considered what he might do next, a movement from towards the door caught his attention. Inside the wooden doorframe, a man was standing, with skin as pale as Ermal’s, dark hair and a dark suit. When he noticed Fabrizio’s attention, he carefully smiled at him, and took a step closer, though just a little one, as if he was worried about overstepping a boundary here, or about scaring Fabrizio.

“Hello. I assume that you’re Marco?”, Fabrizio asked, hoping that the warmth in his voice was enough to show the other man that there was no reason for him to be so hesitant here, not with Fabrizio being a guest in his house, and especially not with how much he had been helping him.

“Yes, I am. I’m glad to meet you Fabrizio.”

“The pleasure is mine”, and when Marco finally walked another step closer, Fabrizio extended his hand for a handshake.

Marco then sat down on the chair next to the bed and looked at Fabrizio, as if he was a puzzle to be solved. Fabrizio met his eyes, and noticed a red shimmer in them, just like in Ermal’s – they didn’t really look alike apart from that, but it wouldn’t have needed the words in Ermal’s book to show Fabrizio that they really were brothers, in all the ways that mattered. Just the tone in which the vampire spoke about Marco would have been enough, and when Fabrizio looked at him now, at the open expression on his face, looking at a stranger whose life he had saved, he was sure that their relationship was mutual. Of course it was, Fabrizio thought, how could one not love Ermal’s gentle soul.

“You’ve saved my life. I feel like I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Marco just nodded and smiled, as if it was nothing, and all he said was: “I’m so happy that I was able to help. Though it mostly was Ermal’s doing.”

Fabrizio got the impression that Marco wasn’t one to talk too much, but his face seemed to say a lot, especially the raising of his eyebrow when he noticed the fond smile on Fabrizio's features once he mentioned Ermal’s name. But this was something to talk about later.

“How are you feeling?”, Marco then asked, looking towards where Fabrizio rested a hand above the wound in his stomach.

“Better, though it still stings a little.”

“That’s normal, no reason to worry here. But I would like to have a look at your wound, if that is alright? And to change your bandages?”

“Yes, of course, we can do that, no problem.”

Marco then helped Fabrizio to take off his shirt and softly wrapped off the bandages around his stomach, smiling when he saw that they weren’t showing traces of blood. He then softly touched the stitches, which caused Fabrizio to shiver.

“Sorry”, Marco mumbled, while he still inspected the healing process.

“It’s fine, it was just- your fingers are rather cold.”

At that, Marco chuckled. “Yes, they might be”, and he smirked. They might have not known each other for a long time already, but something in that smirk still told Fabrizio that there was a remark dancing at the tip of Marco’s tongue, about how someone else’s fingers were just as cold, and Fabrizio didn’t mind their touch at all. But maybe that was just his imagination.

 

After telling Fabrizio that everything was healing well, and that he really had been lucky, Marco applied a salve to the wound and then put new bandages above it. 

“Would you maybe like to have a warmer shirt, if you’re not going to spend all your time in bed anymore? Yes? Here, let me just-“, and Marco got up to open the dark wooden closet in the room’s corner. He handed Fabrizio a blue wool shirt that probably was Ermal’s, and after helping Fabrizio to put it on, Marco had another question.

“Are you hungry?”

“Well, yes, maybe a little-“, Fabrizio started, unsure if he just could ask for food here, and how these things got handled in a house whose inhabitants did not eat. But Marco interrupted him with another warm smile.

“I’ve cooked a soup earlier. Do you want to try to eat it in the living room?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea, I’d love to walk a few steps.”

Marco slid an arm around Fabrizio’s hip and guided him out of the bedroom and towards a table close to the fireplace; the happily dancing flames emitting a truly homely atmosphere. With a smile, he placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of Fabrizio, and, to Fabrizio’s surprise, he also brought one for himself. 

“Oh this really is delicious!”, Fabrizio exclaimed after he had tried the first spoon full of soup, and he felt its warmth streaming everywhere through his body.

“You can ask me when you’re curious about something, you know”, Marco said, his eyes not leaving the soup he was eating.

“Well”, Fabrizio chuckled, “It’s just- as far as I’m aware, you don’t.. eat? At least not food like this?”

“It’s fine if you call the things by their name. We’re vampires, and we drink blood, I know this. But just because we don’t necessarily _need_ to eat human food, that doesn’t mean that we can’t. Or that we don’t enjoy it. Even though our bodies don’t need it, we still can enjoy the taste, and that surely is a nice thing. I’m not that good of a cook myself, there’s just a few dishes that I can do, but Ermal really is fantastic. I’m sure that he’ll cook something for you some day.”

“You think so?”, Fabrizio asked, and only the hint of insecurity in his voice prevented Marco from rolling his eyes.

“I’m absolutely convinced, yes. I’ve already known Ermal for a long time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him quite as _terrified_ as when you’ve been hurt the other day. He cares about you, deeply. And I have to admit, when he first told me about meeting you, I’ve been rather skeptical. Who knew that your kindness wasn’t just a tactic to lure Ermal into a feeling of safety, and to then kill him? But now that I’ve met you, I see that he’s judged well here. That he’s chosen well.”

At the indication of him fooling Ermal to be able to hurt him, Fabrizio had gasped, and now that Marco had stopped talking, he was unsure about what to say. But one thing needed to be said out loud, even though Marco seemed to already know this.

“I’d never hurt Ermal. I, I’d rather die than to let something happen to him.”

Marco grabbed Fabrizio’s hand to shortly squeeze it, and though he knew that Ermal’s feelings were something that no one but Ermal should tell about, he couldn’t help a little remark as an answer.

“He’d do the same for you, you know.”

 

After a moment of a silence that wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, Fabrizio remembered something he had wanted to ask.

“You’ve been playing the piano earlier, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I hope that didn’t disturb your sleep?”

“Not at all! It was wonderful, but I didn’t recognize what it was that you played?”

“That I can imagine; it’s a piece that Ermal wrote.”

“He.. writes music? Music _like this_?”, Fabrizio asked, and he wondered if he was able to control his voice here, or if he actually sounded like a young lady who had just found out that the charming gentleman she had been dancing with at the ball was none other than the prince.

“He does, he’s really good at it. Would you like to try it?”, Marco asked, and at Fabrizio’s questioning gaze he added: “He told me that you’re playing the piano, that you’ve played together. It seemed as if that rather left an impression.”

Fabrizio smiled, and when Ermal came home about an hour later, it was to a sight that made him stop in his tracks. In the living room, there was Fabrizio sitting at Marco’s piano, wearing a shirt that was Ermal’s own, as well as the melody that he played was his. Marco stood next to him, and he leaned down to tell Fabrizio something, words that didn’t reach Ermal’s ears, but shortly after, Fabrizio turned around on his stool. The music stopped as Fabrizio’s fingers left the piano’s keys, but Marco could have sworn that the smile that the other two man shared was sweeter than any melody could be.

The three of them then sat down with a bottle of wine, and Ermal told about how he taken care of the man who had been screaming at Betty, a monster that certainly no one in the city would miss, and how he then had found Betty herself, and there was the fondest of smiles on Ermal’s face when he told about how much happier she already looked, how well some good sleep had done her, and how she had opened up to him a little more, telling stories about her friends that Ermal now retold in great details. He finished his story by describing how they had gone out for lunch together, and that Betty had hugged him after that. When he mentioned that, Ermal had to blink away a tear, and Fabrizio had to fight against the urge to throw his arms around Ermal for a hug himself.

“I’ve promised to visit her again at Christmas Day, and I thought maybe you would like to join me?”, Ermal then asked, and Fabrizio nodded with a smile.

“I’d love to.” 

It didn’t matter anymore that his original plan had included going back to Italy right after Christmas, or that his hotel room had been booked only for this week – somehow, Fabrizio had the feeling that he might stay in London a little longer than planned, and that he wouldn’t go back to that hotel room, except to pick up his clothes he had left there. And spending the 25th with Ermal and Betty, it sounded wonderful. So much better than the fancy Christmas party they had been invited to ever could.

 

_**London, 1895, Christmas Eve** _

The next day, Fabrizio slept in late, and after a lunch consisting of a delicious paprika, rice and meat dish that Ermal had cooked, the curly haired vampire continued to read Jim Hawkins’ story for his friend, this time sitting next to each other at the sofa. Fabrizio’s eyes were fixed on the flames in the fireplace while Ermal read to him, enjoying the closeness, and when he didn’t know one of the English words, he didn’t hesitate to ask, and this little sign of trust caused Ermal to smile, before he explained the difficult words. The hours passed quickly, and when they sat down together with Marco for a cup of tea, it already was getting dark outside of the windows.

“Fabrizio?”

“Yes?”, he looked at Marco sitting opposite from him.

“As your doctor”, and he smiled while saying that, “I’d advise you to try to walk a few more steps, best if it’s outside, so you also can catch some fresh air. Do you think you can do that?”

“I do, it really sounds like a good idea”, and Fabrizio looked out of the window once again, at the freshly fallen snow that had powdered the city’s rooftops and streets with a layer of sparkling magic.

“Ermal? You think you could join him?”, Marco asked after a moment of silence, and he didn’t even bother to come up with an excuse for them, something like how it would be good if Fabrizio wouldn’t be alone in case he’d start to feel dizzy for example. But they all knew that there were other reasons here as well, ones that didn’t need to be said out loud to be true.

A few minutes later, Ermal provided Fabrizio with some additional warm clothes and a soft scarf in the colour of caramel, and then, they stepped out into the cold air of an early Christmas night. Snow was falling down, swallowing most of the city’s noises, and as the sidewalk was a little slippery, Ermal offered Fabrizio his arm, which he took with a shy smile he hid in the scarf. They walked together in a slow pace, nothing rushing them, and here and there, Ermal pointed out a special building, answering Fabrizio’s curiosity and providing stories about things that had happened here; some that he himself had lived, and some he had heard about. It was amazing to Fabrizio, who was rather fond of history, to hear all of this, and even though it was an ocean away, he then started to share stories about Rome’s history, anecdotes about people whose names got carried through the centuries, and without really noticing, they walked rather far. 

 

Fabrizio stopped in his steps in the middle of a side street, and took a few deep breaths while he couldn’t help but press a hand against his side. It wasn’t hurting, at least not much, but there still was a rather unpleasant sting around the wound, and he felt quite exhausted.

“Bizio, are you alright? Does it hurt?”, Ermal's concerned voice got carried through the bitingly cold December air towards Fabrizio's ear, and he shook his head.

“No, it’s alright, I’m just feeling a little worn out. Could we take a break maybe?”

"Yes, of course we can! Do you want to sit down for a moment?", Ermal asked while pointing towards a wooden bench nearby, and Fabrizio nodded.

They took the few steps towards the bench somewhere between two streetlamps, their light licking at it but not quite touching the shadows that inhabited the space around the bench, and even if the streets hadn't been as abandoned as they were, Fabrizio felt as if they'd have been invisible here. He took a few deep breaths, the sting in his side already a fading memory; paling in comparison to the reality of Ermal sitting by his side, his gaze fixed on Fabrizio, his hair once again crowned by snowflakes, his hand resting somewhere between them. Not touching, but it was so close to Fabrizio's thigh, he could have sworn he felt the cold that Ermal emitted through the fabric of his trousers. It caused him to shiver, but to say that it would have been a shiver in unpleasantness would have been a lie.

"It's a beautiful night", Fabrizio commented, looking towards the snow dancing downwards from the sky, as if that was the main reason why this night was special.

"It is. There's some nights, when-", and Ermal stopped, because suddenly, there was music to be heard. A few notes, dancing to them from a building at the other side of the street. Fabrizio listened along with Ermal, both of them in silence, and once again, there were no words needed to recognize that this was Christmas music. So the building which looked rather unspectacular from the outside probably was a church, Fabrizio wondered. The lovely song from inside there went on for a few minutes, the snowflakes falling as if they were tiny ballet dancers in tune with it, and while his eyes were turned towards the sky, Fabrizio shuffled a few centimeters closer to Ermal at the bench.

 

Once the music paused, probably to give someone the opportunity to talk inside the church, someone whose voice didn't carry through the stone walls and across the street, Fabrizio tried to think of something to say, anything, because after this wonderful music, the silence suddenly felt too heavy. And he feared that if he didn't break it quickly, the silence would lure him into saying something that he shouldn't say.

"They're a little early for Christmas, aren't they?", he quickly asked, gesturing towards the building that probably was a little church with his leather glove covered hand.

“I think it's a German community, they celebrate this evening already", Ermal explained, his eyes fixed on the building as well.

"Alright", and once again, Fabrizio fell silent.

A carriage drove by, the hooves of the horses drumming on the cobbled street, echoing long after they had flown around a corner and out of the view of Ermal and Fabrizio. Apart from those being transported by the horses, speeding by so quickly that one might have mistaken it for a dream in the blink of an eye, not a soul was visible around them. But one could _hear_ them now, single voices or words not recognizable, but a certain rhythm to their speech. They were praying. And Fabrizio started to wonder what they might pray for - health and luck for their loved ones, a brighter tomorrow to wake up to, all uncertainties gone? He could barely remember the last time he had been in a church, but what he'd been praying for, that was very well present. And how it hadn't been granted him back then.

Fabrizio shook his head, as if that would erase the memories, and suddenly, a touch pulled him out of the sadness as if it was deep water; steady fingers gripping him to pull him up so he could breathe again. Ermal's touch on his knee was light but steady, and Fabrizio appreciated it, how it made him feel the presence of the other man oh so clearly. Made him feel that he wasn't alone. And how had that even happened? He thought about how he actually preferred the company of a creature without a heartbeat to being on his own, how the touch of fingers cold as ice managed to calm him, how a smile on lips that were hiding teeth capable of ripping out his throat caused his own heart to beat a little faster. Fabrizio was sitting next to a vampire, absolutely defenseless and at the mercy of the monster, and he hardly could remember a time in his life when he had felt safer.

 

The prayer in the little church finished, and another song started, the music so clear to Fabrizio as if he would be sitting next to the organ it was played on. He knew the melody, had heard it before at Christmasses, rushing along next to celebrations, but never taking part in them, and now, it probably was the first time that Fabrizio listened to it, actually _listened_ , while feeling at peace; not only his body at rest but his soul as well. Fabrizio smiled towards the music, into the dark, silent night.

And then, Ermal started to sing.

_Stille Nacht_  
_Heilige Nacht_  
_Alles schläft, einsam wacht_  
_Nur das traute hochheilige Paar_

Ermal's words flew right into Fabrizio's heart, once again not a language needed to understand them except for the music, and hadn't he known better, he would have guessed the man next to him to be an angel.

The winter froze the tears on Fabrizio's cheeks, glistening like diamonds as an illustration of the emotions that he felt. He closed his eyes, and felt Ermal's hand that still rested on his knee tighten a little bit. And soon, way too soon for Fabrizio's liking, the song ended. The night that had been called that in such beautiful verses earlier actually was silent again, and once he opened his eyes, Fabrizio met Ermal's gaze.

"That was beautiful”, Fabrizio whispered, while he looked at Ermal, and he was talking not only about the music. “And this night, it’s.. special. Something to remember”, he tried, though it proved to be rather hard to turn his emotions into words, especially as he was not quite sure about what he felt here. But nevertheless, Ermal seemed to understand him.

"Life, or existence, mostly consists of an endless stream of pointless moments, those who just come and go, not worth a look back. And then, once in a while, one appears that _is_ special. You know, like a star shining through a dark night, there's suddenly a moment in the middle of all that nothingness that indeed is worth remembering, or worth to look forward to. But most of all, worth _living it_ ”, Ermal said, and then his gaze wandered towards the church again, where another Christmas melody had started, “And I think traditions help us with that. To create little lighthouse-fires in the darkness that existence sometimes becomes, and if you think that just because I'm technically dead, I wouldn't be responsive to the spirit of Christmas, you’d be wrong. I love it. Most of all, how there's something so eternal about it. I can promise you that in onehundred, twohundred years, people will still be singing this song in this very night. And I think that's beautiful. Though, admittedly, I'm a bit skeptical about the idea of putting a tree into one's house for Christmas."

"I like the trees", Fabrizio chimed in, and Ermal brightly smiled at that.

"Maybe the trees will stay with the holidays - who knows. But no matter if they do, on nights like this, I'm sure that people always will come together with those they care about, and that's what counts."

"Does that imply that _you_ care about _me_?"

"No", Ermal just answered, but his voice indicated something else, with how very sweet it sounded.

 

And Fabrizio decided to be brave, to whisper a question into the cold December night, as if he wouldn't already know that there only was one honest answer to it: "So you don't like me?"

Ermal's gaze left Fabrizio's, and landed at his hand that still rested on the man's knee for a second. And when he spoke again, it was towards a tree next to the little church at the other side of the street.

"I didn't say that, and you know it. I've been around for quite a few years, _Fabrizio_ , and there rarely have been people who left an impression. But you did. You're.. different. Have been from that very first moment at the party, when you realized what I was, and still couldn't resist to talk to me. Your curiosity and your bravery managed to win that battle against all your caution, your experience, your fears there, and I'm glad that they did. I would have hated it, if I had to kill you in a fight before we even started to get to know each other. Because, as you very well should know, I actually do like you. You're like a song that I expected to hate but now can't stop playing. And even a hundred years from now on, soft snowfall might still remind me of how funny those flakes look in this ridiculous hair of yours", and while he said that, Ermal's eyes flickered towards Fabrizio; towards his hair that resembled a nest built by a bird who didn't care too much about interior design, towards his questioning, dark eyes, and finally, towards his slightly parted lips.

Fabrizio followed Ermal's gaze, and then he thought about his words again, about their tone, what it might have meant. Ermal's last words had contained a certain melancholy, and he hoped that he was right in guessing the reason for that.

"I don't know what happens in a hundred years, how the flakes will fall then or if all the snow will have melted, but what I do know is that _tonight,_ we're here. And, as surprising as it may be, I enjoy this. I.. I enjoy your company."

Ermal turned a little more towards Fabrizio, raising his hand from his knee, but before Fabrizio could mourn the loss of the touch, he felt gentle fingers cupping his cheek.

“There’s no one I’d rather be here with than you”, Ermal whispered, and Fabrizio took in the sight in front of him, the openness in the other man’s eyes that glimmered in a dark red, the hint of a smile that nearly seemed shy, the eternal beauty of his face which a poet might describe in endless verses. This seemed to be their own little Christmas miracle, and when Ermal’s smile got brighter under Fabrizio’s gaze, he made a decision. 

And with a smile of his own, Fabrizio leaned in. He closed his eyes, and shortly after felt the touch of cold lips on his own, and it was a gentle kiss, filled with what one might call love. One of Fabrizio’s hands found its way in Ermal’s curls while the other one rested between his shoulder blades, and they held each other close while their lips connected. Ermal wouldn’t have minded to continue that kiss for longer, but he was aware that Fabrizio needed to breathe, so he leaned back, though just a little bit. Their foreheads rested against each other’s, two pairs of eyes still closed, and Fabrizio whispered into the silence of the Christmas night.

“I’m so incredibly glad that I’ve met you.”

At that, Ermal leaned in for another kiss, and when they stood up from their bench a few minutes later, hands tightly grasping each other’s, he found an answer.

“I’ve never believed in destiny, but if it was that which was needed for you to turn up at that particular party on this evening I happened to be there too, I’ll gladly start to. Because I don’t want to imagine a life in which I wouldn’t have been lucky enough to cross paths with you.”

They continued their walk in silence, because words were not needed here – not when the smiles on both of their faces said so much more than words ever could express, and not when both of them felt as if they finally had found their place in the world. At each other’s side.

 

The world was drifting gently through a snowy winter night, and somewhere, in a big city on an island, surrounded by thousands of people and yet so alone, two hearts fell for each other. One fastly pumping blood through veins, the other as cold and still as the ice around, and yet, in this moment, they began to beat as one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing playlist for this story, in case you want to have a listen:
> 
> "Love will find a Way" - Alphaville  
> "Moonlight Kissed" - Poets of the Fall  
> "The Power of Love" - Frankie goes to Hollywood  
> "Stille Nacht" - yes, I've got a version by Helene Fischer in mine xD, but of course every other is valid too  
> "Higher Love" - Michael Patrick Kelly


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the warmest of Thanks to my friends, for their never ending support, and to everyone reading, liking & commenting this story ❤︎
> 
> And a warning: the first scene of this chapter contains hints at physical violence and abuse as well as kinda bloody descriptions, so if you're not comfortable reading that, I would recommend skipping until the second date.

_**West Coast of the Ottoman Empire, 1832, Winter** _

Rough winds were chasing each other down from the mountains looming in the distance, the prickling cold of a winter night held the landscape in a tight grip, and a thin layer of snow covered the trees, the fields, the houses that appeared here and there; wooden, not a straight plank anymore after too many seasons had left their traces, lonely and far away from each other. Somewhere in the woods, far from any sign of civilization, a man was walking - his jacket wide open, as he didn't feel the bitingly cold winter air, at least not as an unpleasant sensation, and the snow glittering in a bright full moon's light got reflected in his sparkling red eyes. Those eyes weren't focused on something in particular, getting caught by the traces of a deer here or by an interesting stone formation there; he didn't have a real goal in his mind on his little night walk, and he wasn't looking for something. And yet, in this night, the man found something. Or rather, someone.

The first thing he noticed was the smell - there was nothing that could quite be compared to the smell of fresh blood, least of all if it was human, and of course he instantly recognized it. That faint hint of iron, of hunger, of temptation that got carried towards his nose by the wind caused the little hairs on the man's pale arms to stand up, his pupils to widen, and he hurried his steps in the direction of the smell. And there, under a tall fir, he saw him. With his back towards the tree, there was a person, a human, rather laying than sitting upright, and hadn't it been for the ragged breathing audible to his sharpened ears, the man now nearly running through the snow would have assumed the human to be dead, judged by the amount of blood that coloured the snow around him.

The man got down to his knees, vaguely noticing blood drenched clothes, a leg standing up in a weird angle, but what he focused on was the face. A man's face, paler than any living being should look, young, and, once he opened his left eye a bit, the right being swollen shut, a face that, despite everything, looked like it hadn't given up all fighting.

"What do you want?", the young man asked, speaking the local language, a little slur in his words that probably was caused by the pain, the blood loss, the underlying fear.

"I'm not planning to hurt you. My name's Marco", came the accented answer, an answer that surprised no one as much as the man who had said it - it had been a long time since Marco had last told someone his real name, least of all a stranger he randomly stumbled across in the woods, a stranger who would be the easiest of preys. A stranger who was dying.

The young man looked doubtful at Marco out of a dark brown eye, and tried to say something. It took him a moment, a cough shaking through his body, causing him to flinch in pain, but finally, he managed to get out a few words.

"Please don't kill me, Marco", he whispered, and though he tried to crawl away, weakly, Marco leaned a little closer.

Marco had been wandering this world for a long time already, had been faced with quite a few terrible sights, saw wars and badly hurt people he could help, as well as those where he couldn't, but this, it was different - something about this situation touched him, somewhere deep inside his cold cold heart.

 

With gentle fingers, Marco peeled away the young man's ragged jacket, so very unfitting for those freezing temperatures, and swallowed. Because as soon as he was able to take a look at the wound in his stomach that most of the blood painting the snow around seemed to be coming from, he became aware that this poor soul wouldn't survive long enough for the cold to kill him; that exhaustion and blood loss, as well as whatever internal damage he might have suffered, would be his end, rather than the greedy teeth of this chilly winter night slowly sucking the life out of him. And this led Marco to a conclusion - even if there had been a hospital around anywhere near, people schooled in helping the injured, it would have been too late, too hopeless, too severe.

There was nothing that any human could do to prevent these brave brown eyes from fluttering closed to never open again. But Marco was not a human.

Marco looked into the young man's pale face, while there was a decision forming in the back of his troubled mind, a decision to at least ask - ask, not act, because he couldn't have beared cursing someone for a whole eternity, if they didn't have at least a reason to stay around; because he himself had experienced for a time longer than he liked to remember how it was to be utterly _alone_ , and to wish there would be an end, or a reason to look forward to a new sunrise, a new spring, a new century. But something in the way that this dying man kept clinging to what little connection he had left with the world of the living told Marco that he did have a reason to stay. A reason to fight.

"Would you like me to prevent you from dying?", Marco asked, his soft voice causing the other's eye to widen, only for him to snort shortly after.

"What kind of a question is that supposed to be? I'm not stupid. I know that it's too late for me. I can feel it", and the last part, he only whispered, his voice close from breaking.

"If you would actually die, what would happen then?"

"My family-", and here, his voice did break. And after all the pain he had endured before, the fear, the hopelessness, it was this which finally caused a tear to slide down his porcelain-like cheek.

"Your family?", Marco gently prompted, placing his hand at the stranger's shoulder - he would have liked to believe that he didn't shy away from the touch that he hoped to be comforting because it actually was working, but maybe he only was too weak, too exhausted by speaking to have any energy left to protect his body from what he might assume to be a danger.

"If I had just one more day, one more chance to, I _need_ to, to protect them", he whispered, the urgency of what he was telling causing his words to become faster and faster.

"What do you want to protect them from?"

"A monster."

Marco swallowed, as he watched more tears escaping those brave dark eyes, and while he was aware that he himself was a monster, would be considered one by probably every living being on this planet, he suspected that what the young man was so afraid of here was something else. Something not quite supernatural, something probably even more dangerous. As much greatness as humanity could come up with, Marco had also seen enough proof that humans could be monsters worse than blood drinking shadows like him. 

The young man raised his hand, as if he wanted to wipe away his own tears, but he didn’t possess enough strength for the task, his trembling fingers falling back into his lap with a shaky exhale; one that also seemed to accompany a bit of what little hope had been left inside that fragile body to fly away into the cold winter night. Focusing his gaze on Marco took him a moment, but in the end, he did manage, nothing but pleading left in his eyes, no fear, not even pain. As if he considered his own story already written finished, but still had the faint dream of being able to do something for his loved ones lingering in his heart.

 

"Could you- Marco please, could you look after them? I'll do anyt-, I mean, you can take, here, I've still got some money left, and you can have the jacket, it's still quite good”, he whispered, and, to Marco’s utter surprise, actually started tugging at one of the jacket’s sleeves, leaning a little bit forward, away from the tree’s support, in the process.

Nothing but a surprised exhale escaped the man when he lost his balance, and hadn’t Marco been there to catch him, steady hands around his trembling frame, he would have collapsed face forward into the snow. From this close, Marco felt the missing difference in temperature between their skin in all its intensity, heard how weakly this courageous little heart was beating, and he knew there wasn’t much time left. Instead of taking this poor excuse of a jacket away as it had been suggested, Marco took off his own, as well his dark scarf, and wrapped it around the trembling human in his arms. A thought struck his brain – the young man had offered to give him money if he’d protect his family, and Marco took him for anything but a liar, so that raised a question. Because he hadn’t been hurt that badly by animals, no, this was a human’s work, and if he still had his money, this spoke against a random attack. Which thief would kill someone only to then leave him with his belongings? No, something else must have happened to him, and deep inside, Marco knew that it probably had to do with the same monster who now proved a danger to his family. Which was another reason why he had to do something here, and had to do it fast.

As gently as he could, Marco ran a hand through shaking curls, hoping this touch was at least a little comforting, and then started to speak.

“I _promise_ you that we will protect your family. I do, I swear it, by everything that’s good in this world. But there are different ways of how that could happen. You, you’re dying, my friend, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. So I could just wait here with you, until it’s over, and then, once your soul has left this realm and is looking down from a brighter place, I’d find your family, and I’d get rid of whatever monster is proving a danger to them. I would make sure that no harm would come to them, I swear that I would, and-“, Marco hesitated, realizing that he still didn’t know the dying man’s name.

“Ermal”, a faint whisper carried by the wind, and Marco couldn’t help but smile at that sign of trust.

“Ermal. I’m sure that your family knows how much, and how fiercely you love them, and that you would do everything to protect them. And if you asked me to, I would do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

“But why?”, Ermal asked, weakness and confusion turning his words nearly non audible.

 _Why_ , that was a good question. Marco thought about it for a moment, how he himself didn’t quite fully understand it; this sudden protectiveness about a dying stranger in the depths of the frost covered woods, this urge to fight whatever evil was threatening those his brave heart was beating for.

“Because you love them”, he said, aware that a lot more words would have been needed here as an explanation, and also, that they were running out of time for those.

 

For a second, Marco let that sink in, and then tried to explain their second option: “When I asked earlier if you wanted me to prevent you from dying, I meant that. I could. Your wounds would heal, and you’d stand up here stronger than you ever have been. You wouldn’t need to be afraid of the cold, of sickness, of death ever again. But it never would end. In some cases, death can be a blessing, and you never would be granted that; you’d be wandering this world for an eternity.”

“Are you telling me that you’re immortal? And that I could be too?”, Ermal asked, and even though they hadn’t known each other for long and it wasn’t Marco’s mother language, he heard clearly just how very much the young man didn’t believe his words.

“That’s exactly what I am telling you. If I bit you now, if I drank your blood and you mine, you would stop being a human. And you’d get to experience what loneliness truly means, but at the same time, you’d still be you, and you’d have the chance to protect your family from that monster yourself.”

At that last remark, Ermal slightly raised his head, his eye looking straight into Marco’s. 

“I don’t really believe you. But-“, another cough shook through his body, a drop of blood running down from his lips towards his deathly pale chin, “There’s nothing I really have to loose, is there? Try whatever blood drinking magic you can do, Marco, and if this doesn’t work, keep that promise that you’ll look out for my family.”

Marco nodded, and following a quick description of how to get to the house Ermal’s family lived in, he decided that the moment had come. After a last look at Ermal, the spark of hope in his gaze, despite how unbelievable Marco’s offer sounded, he leaned in, whispered a faint “I’m sorry”, and then buried his fangs deep in Ermal’s pale neck. The man flinched, and struggled, but only for a moment, and then he stilled in Marco’s arms. Warm blood filled Marco’s mouth, his senses, ran down his chin, and for a second, he allowed himself to get lost in the bliss that the taste caused to explode in his brain. 

With a sigh, Marco leaned back, listening to Ermal’s breath, nearly swallowed by the silence of the night, but nevertheless still there, and then, he ripped open his own wrist with his razor-sharp teeth. It wasn’t quite pain that Marco felt, but the closest he probably could get to actually feel physical harm, and he hissed while his fangs cut through his ice cold skin. A lot of time had passed since Marco last had been confronted with the sight of his own blood, but there was no time to be wasted by getting fascinated by it now, and so he pressed his bleeding wrist against Ermal’s pale lips, letting his blood drip inside his mouth. 

In the quietness of the night, Marco heard Ermal’s heart beating, weakly, holding on to a life that was ending, and then, after a last shaky breath, there wasn’t another heartbeat audible. Marco leaned back and looked at Ermal, brave, brave Ermal who had just died in his arms; Ermal, whose skin still was pale, but slowly turned from looking pale in a sick, deadly way, to seeming white as the freshly fallen snow around them. With a careful finger, Marco touched Ermal’s cheek, the skin as cold as his own now, and then, suddenly and without warning, Ermal’s eyes shot open.

 

Marco couldn’t help but smile as he saw the honest surprise in Ermal’s face, and when Ermal stood up, stretched his limbs, not a hint of his earlier pain left, Marco stepped back a little, to let him have this moment. Ermal nearly seemed in trance, slowly turning around himself, his formerly broken leg working just fine now, and when his eyes met Marco’s, not dark brown anymore, but red now, there was nothing left but wonder in them.

“This actually.. worked?”, Ermal asked, disbelief underlying his words, but his voice stronger than Marco had heard it before, and he nodded.

“Welcome to eternity”, Marco whispered, trying to not let his voice sound too melancholic, and Ermal didn’t seem to catch the hint of sadness that still slipped into it.

Ermal looked around in fascination, getting adjusted to his improved eyesight, and when he glanced up towards the sky, a myriad of stars got reflected in his blood red eyes…

 

_**Milano, 2018, 3rd December** _

The only noise to be heard in the little room somewhere on the 4th floor in Milano was the laptop running, and it also was the only source of light in the otherwise dark environment. With a sigh, the young man sitting in front of it stared at the screen, the cold blueish light illuminating features that might be considered attractive, dark curls and tired eyes. Those eyes flashed over the screen, where way less words were written than there should be, and the man finally closed the laptop, harder than it would have been strictly necessary. Now the darkness that earlier had just been lingering in the corners at the edge of his vision was everywhere, like a blanket throwing itself around him from all sides, and his eyes enjoyed the change, after all the concentrated work earlier. He blinked a few times, and then got up, stretching his back, and for a moment, he stared at the clock on the opposite wall in confusion. It already was after 3 in the morning? How could this have happened? He would have to get up at 6 again, and he knew that the logical conclusion would have been to seek shelter in the depths of his bed right in that moment, to hope to be able to catch at least a few moments of precious deep sleep, but at the same time, he knew himself. Knew that there were too many thoughts dancing around each other in his head, too many issues oh so demanding of his attention, and sleep seemed like a utopia. No matter how much he would have needed it.

So instead of walking towards the tiny space he called his bedroom, the young man started wandering around in his flat, just a few steps as there wasn't too much space there, and when this didn't seem to be enough, he grabbed a knitted sweater hanging over the sofa's handrail as well as his keys, and left the flat. The old iron staircase leading up to the rooftop creaked underneath his steps, and the door only opened on his third try, but ultimately, it did. Not minding the words it itself was announcing, about how civilians weren't allowed to just wander around up here on their own. About that, the young man couldn't have cared less in that moment, because as soon as he opened the door, he was hit by cold winter air as if it was a wall he was walking against. The sweater did nothing to prevent him from the cold, or to stop the goosebumps everywhere on his skin, and he smiled. Because finally, Andrea felt like he could breathe again.

He walked outside of the doorframe, and heard freshly fallen snow crunching underneath the soles of his shoes, a noise so _unique_ that he was sure he'd recognize it everywhere. With a little smile, a smile that felt like the first one to light up his face in weeks, Andrea looked towards the sky, from where a few more tiny snowflakes were falling towards him. Out of an impulse that felt childish but at the same time way too tempting to resist, he opened his mouth, and felt his heart beat in happiness when he managed to catch the first snowflake with his tongue. The last few weeks, or if he was honest, months, had been hard, and he was aware that he had been working too much, had been taking too little care of himself, but at the same time, it felt as if there wasn't anything he could have done differently. For a split second, the text still waiting to be finished at his laptop tried to fight a way for itself towards the center of his consciousness, but Andrea tried to fight against it, and for now, he won. He needed this moment, actually _needed_ it, just himself and the silence that one only could find in the depth of the night in a busy city like this and most importantly, he needed the company of the snow.

 

Some time later, Andrea couldn’t have said how long it had been, only that he could feel neither his fingertips nor his toes anymore, and that his cheeks were hurting from the frozen wind, he turned back towards the door, walked towards the warmth the house promised; not without a wishful look back. Once he had returned to his laptop with a mug of steaming hot elder tea and two pairs of fluffy socks on his feet, he didn’t open his text again, but instead went to Google, and looked through various pictures of snow-covered mountains. 

Yes, a holiday was just what he needed, and when Andrea finally found a place that looked promising, he smiled brightly. There was a hostel there that still had free beds he could afford, lots of hiking and skiing routes surrounding the village, and the mountain scenery around it simply looked breathtaking. It didn’t take long to book himself that little holiday, and with every added detail, Andrea felt himself looking forward to it more – just a little over two weeks of hard work, and then he’d be allowed to enjoy the loneliness, the silence, the fresh air the mountains promised. The last thing he added was a bus ticket to get there, and after finishing and printing out everything, Andrea leaned back in his chair. By now, the first rays of light promising a new day already were shining into the room, and he knew that it wouldn’t make sense to go to bed and try to sleep for those few minutes left, so instead, he poured himself a cup of coffee, and put a printed-out picture of the mountains surrounding his holiday destination on the wall above his desk. Just two more weeks, and his calm Christmas break could begin…

 

_**A beach in Northern Italy, 1896, 20th April** _

Fabrizio was mesmerized by the sight of the man by his side. His moonlight kissed skin, his dark curls that seemed to melt into the night’s blackness, reaching out to become one with it, his eyes that were fixed on the gentle waves’ movements. There was something utterly peaceful about this scene, and Fabrizio got reminded how at first, at a party in London that seemed a lifetime ago, even if it were just a few months, he had thought Ermal to be a monster, one of the devil’s creations that had crawled right out of hell. How utterly wrong he had been back then, and how quickly he luckily had realized that mistake. Now, the sight of Ermal seemed to be rather angelic, and Fabrizio found himself just admiring; for once no thoughts chasing each other in his mind about a world that longed to be saved, no restlessness, no longing for a peace he hadn’t found in such a long time. Because maybe now, he had done just this. Maybe his own little world had been saved by this strange man by his side, a man without a heartbeat but with eyes so much warmer than Fabrizio ever had seen them. Maybe falling in love with a monster had been everything it needed for the hunter to find peace in his heart, and maybe waking up in arms as cold as ice in the mornings was the best reason to start his days with a smile he could have found.

After a few moments of silence, Ermal turned towards Fabrizio, a gentle smile on his lips, and took his partner’s hand, holding it tight while walking a few more steps towards the sea. When he started to speak, Ermal’s eyes still hadn’t left the moonlit ocean, but his attention was on Fabrizio, his cold fingers gently caressing his skin.

“I’m so happy we managed to make it to a beach today”, Ermal whispered, his voice low enough to not disturb the sounds of the waves.

“Of course we did”, Fabrizio just answered, remembering the happy glimmer in Ermal’s eyes when he had suggested spending his birthday, or rather its evening and night, at a beach.

Ermal loved the sea with a burning passion, and Fabrizio knew that he missed spending time at the beach in bright sunlight, but this here, it came quite close to the image of a perfect beach day that Fabrizio had in his mind. Or maybe it even was better – sunlight reflecting on the ways certainly was a beautiful sight, but the moonlight tonight nearly looked magical, they were alone, just two lovers and the endless ocean, and though the sea wind was cold, none of them minded it. Ermal had opened his shirt, to be able to feel the salty ocean air at his porcelain skin, and Fabrizio was wearing an extra scarf, one that he wouldn’t necessarily have needed, but Ermal had insisted on him wearing it with such sweet concern in his eyes that Fabrizio couldn’t have resisted him. 

 

Ermal took off his leather shoes and socks and then sat down at the cold sand, so the most daring of waves would reach his toes stretched towards them, and Fabrizio gently smiled before he sat down too, a little behind Ermal and with his feet crossed underneath himself. With a soft sigh, Ermal leaned back, so his body rested against Fabrizio, and the man wrapped his arms around his vampire, holding him close to his heart.

“It’s been a wonderful day”, Ermal murmured, his eyes still fixed on the waves and his thoughts wandering towards waking up with Fabrizio in his arms, dinner with Marco, a letter from Betty that had warmed his heart.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, m-, Ermal”, Fabrizio answered, stopping himself from calling Ermal _my love_ , because that came too close to something else he wanted to say, “And I mean, it has to be something special, because even someone immortal only turns 83 once in their existence.”

At that, Ermal softly laughed, Fabrizio feeling the vibrations with his whole body, and he leaned forward to place a kiss in Ermal’s dark curls.

“I wouldn’t have thought to ever make it to my 83rd birthday”, Ermal admitted to the waves, and Fabrizio held him a little tighter.

“But you did, my darling, you did. And you’re still looking quite good, for an old man.”

Ermal giggled before he turned around to ruffle through Fabrizio’s hair, an expression he tried his hardest to make look sulking in place, only that it didn’t quite work, not with the fondness shining from his eyes.

“Ao, I’m not an old man!”, he complained, and leaned in for a kiss.

Fabrizio melted into it, tasting lips that felt like home on his, and came to a decision. That he had wanted to say it, he had known for some time already, but now, he finally was convinced that the right moment had come. On a beach that looked as if it had been taken straight out of a dream, with Ermal in his arms and words from Fabrizio’s home dialect rolling off his tongue just naturally, making Fabri’s heart flutter, there couldn’t come a more fitting time.

“Ermal?”, he asked once they had paused their kiss, and his tone seemed to give the importance of what he wanted to say away, because Ermal leaned back a little and looked deep into his eyes, his head laid slightly to the side in curiosity.

“Yes?”

“I love you”, Fabrizio said, just like that, no more words needed, no explanations, cause it was a fact, one coming straight from his heart, and he was sure that Ermal could hear this in his voice, see it in his eyes.

 

For a moment, Ermal was silent, letting Fabrizio’s words sink in. He loved him. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, not after all the time they had spend already together, after the kisses, the trust, the promises, and after so much more. And yet, Ermal needed a minute to process it, because he wouldn’t have expected anyone ever actually falling in love with him, least of all a heart as pure and as alive as Fabrizio’s. But it had, there was no doubting Fabrizio’s sincerity, and as Ermal felt just the same, he couldn’t fight the burst of happiness shooting through his body like electricity, didn’t even try, or want to.

Slowly, Ermal raised a hand, cupped Fabrizio’s cheek with it, and looked at those features he loved so deeply for a moment; at warm brown eyes, the tiniest of freckles, hair that was utterly unruly even though Fabrizio had tried to tame it for Ermal’s birthday. And inside those deeply beloved eyes, Ermal saw a flicker of uncertainty, which finally caused him to snap out of his silence, to lean a little closer and answer.

“I love you too, Fabrizio. My heart is all yours.”

Ermal hadn’t seen the sun in quite some years, but when he was faced with the brightness of Fabrizio’s smile, he found that he didn’t need it. He had been sincere with his earlier words, there had been times back when he still was alive where he would have deemed it impossible to make it to his 83rd birthday, and he knew that experiencing this day in itself was not something too extraordinary, but it was in his case. And the best thing was not making it to this day in itself, but the knowledge that he had something worth existing for, worth looking forward to his 84th birthday already, and all the days that would come in between. 

 

While he cuddled into Fabrizio’s arms again, Ermal thought of the cake they had eaten earlier, of the birthday song that Marco and Fabrizio had played at the piano together for him, and of the presents he had gotten. He had told them both that he didn’t need anything, that having his family with him was the most precious of gifts he ever could receive, but of course none of them had listened to him. Marco had gotten them tickets for a play in a theater in Berlin, a brand new one that would open its doors in autumn, when the weather hopefully would be cloudy and rainy enough to make traveling a pleasure, and Ermal was looking forward to wandering through the German Empire with his brother and his love, to explore a country he hadn’t been to before with curious eyes.

Next to the birthday cake, there had been a letter waiting for him, addressed in carefully painted letters, and Ermal already had opened it with a bright smile. Betty was writing him from the Swiss school they had found for her, happily telling about all the things she was learning, her friends, the animals she had spotted around the school building. Her favourite seemed to be a rabbit that seemed to live underneath her dorm room’s window, and Betty described its big eyes, long ears and fluffy fur in great detail, causing the urge that Ermal felt to hug the little girl to become even stronger. But they had promised to visit her on the first rainy weekend in May, and Ermal knew that they then would have time, to admire Betty’s long-eared friend together, to be shown around the school grounds, and to hear more about this German scientist that Betty was so fascinated by, and who, according to her words, could look through people. She wondered if that magic would work with Ermal and Marco too, and he had chuckled while reading that – they hadn’t been able to hide from the girl that they weren’t quite human, hadn’t even tried, and she seemed as if she couldn’t care less. 

Ermal still could remember how she always seemed to melt into his hugs, and when at the end of her letter, she had told about how they had been asked to write an essay in school, an essay about their father, and she had written about a curly haired man travelling a lot, Ermal hadn’t been able to blink away the tears. Once they next saw each other, he’d make sure to thank her for that, as well as for the picture she had sent him, careful pencil lines coming together to form the dome in Milano. Of course Betty never had been there, but seemingly, she had remembered how Ermal once had mentioned the beauty of the building, and then looked for a book containing a picture that she could copy. Ermal had carefully folded the letter again, and placed it in his jacket’s pocket, right above his heart. Fabrizio and him really had met an angel this past Christmas.

From Fabrizio himself, Ermal had gotten a picture frame, containing a photography of the two of them, a little blurry, them smiling into the camera even though the photographer had frowned at that. The frame itself was made out of dark wood, and when Fabrizio mentioned how he had carved the delicate flower pattern into it himself, Ermal nearly had chocked on his emotions. Which only increased when Fabrizio murmured a sentence on the material choice, about how he wished that their joined memories never should hurt Ermal. The vampire never had explained it to his love, that the images he possessed of his mother and siblings were kept in frames made of silver, even though this was one of the very few things able to cause him harm, but seemingly, it hadn’t escaped the hunter’s attention. And Ermal loved him for it, and for how he had decided to create something different for them. With careful fingers, Ermal had touched the flowers and tiny stars carved into the wood, and then kissed Fabrizio, deeply, before thanking both him and Marco from the bottom of his heart – for the presents, yes, but most of all, for being there. For being a family to Ermal, and for making his birthday such a wonderful one.

 

A kiss from Fabrizio to his forehead was what brought Ermal’s mind back towards the present, to their beach, and he smiled before he repeated his earlier words, about how he loved Fabrizio - just because it was true, and because he could. The sea wind was ruffling through his curls like a caress, he could smell the salt in the air, and the waves were dancing in glittering moonlight – there was a beauty to this night that the most talented of painters couldn’t have portrayed more magnificent, and Ermal looked at all of it, felt it, to be able to carry this moment with himself, to keep it inside his heart. 

The brightest spot inside this memory though, that was Fabrizio’s presence, and while of course he would remember that too, it was different to Ermal. Because the beach, the moonlit night, he would have to leave those, let them go, but Fabrizio, no, he could not imagine ever leaving his love. They would stay together, for as long as they were granted the time, and when Fabrizio took Ermal’s hand to place a gentle kiss on each of his knuckles, he couldn’t fight the thought that though his was dead and cold, there couldn’t be a happier heart in the world…

 

_**Northern Italy, 2018, a few days before Christmas** _

With a yawn escaping his lips, Andrea climbed out of the bright green bus, waited a moment for his bag to emerge from its depths and then put his light blue knitted hat over his curls, protecting his ears from the bitingly cold winter air. And he breathed, deeply, for a few minutes, focusing on nothing but how _clear_ the air smelled here - no cars, no factories, no people; nothing but winter and a distant taste of freedom in it. When he opened his eyes again, his eyes that he couldn't quite remember having closed, the bus already had driven away, and the other passengers had left towards wherever their ways might lead them; may it be the coziness of a happily flickering fireplace in a dearly missed home, or the excitement of a breathtaking ski track.

Andrea was alone in the parking lot, and he looked around, let his delighted eyes roam over the mountains who majestically stood again an already darkening sky. After another minute or three, Andrea shouldered his bag and started walking towards the hostel he had booked, or at least where he hoped it to be, according to the directions he had looked up online a few days ago. And it worked - around a corner here and across a little bridge there, and he reached a pretty three store building, wooden decorations in the architecture and a pointy roof causing it to fit into the village's atmosphere just perfectly. With a smile, Andrea opened the door, introduced himself at the reception and got handed his keys, the man behind the counter speaking in such a heavy dialect that Andrea felt as if he could understand only every second word. But the general information, that he thought he got - most importantly, the breakfast times. Without a nice cup of tea in the morning, a day already seemed lost to Andrea, and he'd hate to miss this, especially here, on his holidays.

"Oh, another thing", the receptionist said when Andrea already had started walking towards the staircase, "If you want to buy a skiing pass, you can do that here, 's cheaper than the touristy spots."

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind! Though I think that tomorrow I'll start with a nice hiking tour."

"Joining a group?"

"No, I want to have some time for myself here, to relax, and I've read about this path Northern of the village, it sounded wonderful."

"Hmm. You've got the right shoes for that, lad? Those mountains, they've got their own mind, especially at this time of the year."

"I hope so, yes", Andrea answered with a smile, and the other man mumbled something incomprehensible into his long unruly beard.

At Andrea's questioning raised eyebrow, he just shook his head.

"Have a pleasant stay, sir. And don't get lost."

Andrea just nodded, and then walked up towards the room, where he threw his bag onto the bed and opened the window wide. When he leaned out of it, he could feel the cold mountain wind on his cheeks, and it nearly felt as if he was calling his name, inviting him to explore this breathtaking nature. And Andrea couldn’t wait, for his hiking tour the next day, and then to return here, for a nice dinner in the little restaurant he had spotted next to the hostel…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment? Pretty please?? ❤︎
> 
> Oh and btw, the theatre they're going to visit is the Theater des Westens, which opened on 1st October 1896 in Berlin :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't deny that I'm rather excited about this new chapter 😊
> 
> And a warning: while this whole update seems to be 3 angsty scenes in a trenchcoat pretending to be a chapter, the 1921 storyline is especially angsty. There's some violence in there, so please be careful while reading!
> 
> Hugs to my friends, who didn't mind my rambling about this update, and who already went through some of the feels as a test audience; I love you ❤️

_**Northern Italy, 2018, a few days before Christmas** _

After a night of surprisingly pleasant sleep, Andrea awoke around 8 in the morning, and following a quick shower and throwing on some warm clothes, he padded down to where he had been told that breakfast would be available. There was a table offering a small selection of baked goods as well as a coffee machine and a water cooker, but strangely not a single mug was in sight. Andrea frowned, and then took a bowl (that he couldn’t see a purpose for, since there were neither cornflakes nor milk available) from the side of the table and made himself a tea in there, before settling with that and a Nutella toast at a little table at the window. Shortly after him, two other people walked into the otherwise empty breakfast room, a couple that might be speaking Russian, or a related language, Andrea wasn’t sure, and they nodded towards him, which he answered with a smile. 

The window offered a wonderful view of the mountains around the village, and Andrea couldn’t wait to finally set foot into them. He checked the hiking route he wanted to take online once more, also taking a few screenshots since one couldn’t trust the connection anywhere around here, and especially not in the middle of the nature, and after he had memorized which of the signs and symbols to follow, he put his dishes away, threw on a weather proof jacket as well as his knitted hat, and once his new hiking boots also were in place, he walked out of the hostel with an excited smile on his face. 

From the village’s main square, signs did lead the way to the different mountains and hikes, and it didn’t take Andrea long to find the one he had chosen. Most of the people he saw on that morning were walking towards the cable railway’s station, skiing gear shouldered, and while he left them behind him, Andrea promised himself to bite into the sour apple of how expensive the skiing passes were, and also get one for one of the following days. He was here after all, so he couldn’t miss that opportunity, and after the nice hike he planned for today, it would surely be lovely to also experience the breathtaking nature from another point of view. And he had time, since all of his friends were celebrating Christmas with their families, and his own parents had decided to take a trip towards Australia for the holidays; something that had been a life long dream of them, and about which their excitement had been utterly adorable in Andrea’s eyes. He had no plans for Christmas, and if he might decide to stay here in the mountains for a day or two longer than originally planned, no one at home would miss him. He had all the time in the world.

 

It took around an hour of walking through woods swallowing most of the spare daylight, the path leading steadily upwards, until Andrea stepped onto a rougher territory; his feet connecting with stones now rather than with the frozen mix of needles and mud that covered the ground beneath the trees. And shortly after, those vanished completely – an open view presented itself in front of Andrea’s widening eyes, and for a moment, he could do nothing but take in the beauty he was faced with. He now could see the little town he stayed in from above, curling itself between the flanks of the mountains surrounding it, a spare car moving through it as if it was an ant, and if he looked a little further, all Andrea could see were more mountains. The air wasn’t the clearest today, hints of fogs and clouds lingering in the distance to dim the view, but it still was wonderful, and maybe, the sun would fight away those later in the day, so Andrea might be able to enjoy a clear glance at the distant giants.

After some more time and a break sweetened by some cookies, Andrea came to a parting of the path he was walking on, and for once, there wasn’t a sign advising which way he should be taking. That wasn’t ideal, and he sighed, taking out his phone. There wasn’t a signal available, of course there wasn’t, but he still had his screenshots, and from those, Andrea vaguely suspected that he should take the left path; the one that slowly but surely was curling back towards the valley. The right one, in contrast to that, went higher towards the mountain’s top, and somewhere above, lingering behind the fog, Andrea thought he could make out the cross marking the highest point of the mountain. For a moment, he deliberated, and then, after a glance at his watch, decided to take the little detour. He could see if he was able to get up there, and afterwards, just come back to this place and take the path back to the valley, he should have enough time to do that before the night would break. And there never was anything wrong with a little adventure.

So Andrea left the path he had planned to take, and instead, hiked above rough stones, some of them covered by ice so he had to take care of his every step, and after a last bit of climbing, his fingers biting from holding onto the freezing rocks, he made it. He stood next to the old wooden cross, leaning against it for support, and while he steadied his breath, he looked down. The fog by now was hiding the village and the whole valley completely, which was a disappointment, but then again, it gave Andrea a feeling of having stepped above the clouds, and this truly was exciting. Especially when the sun decided to show herself, and blew away some of the fog - not revealing the village, but scaring away some of the tendrils of smoke lingering around the mountains in the opposite direction, and Andrea gasped, faced with the sight of peaks covered by nothing but pristinely white snow standing against a light winter sky. With a bright smile on his face, Andrea sat down, his back against the weathered wood of the cross, and took out his phone once again, snapping a panorama picture of the view. Of course a mere photograph would never be able to capture the true beauty of this view, but it still would serve nicely as a memory of this wonderful day. A day, that Andrea decided, should be ended now by hiking back down, since his legs already complained against the out of the ordinary exercise, and he could feel himself getting hungry. 

It had been the right decision to step off his original path, to let himself be bewitched by this view of the distant mountains, but by now, it was time to get back… 

 

_**Sicily, 1895, 9th November** _

Rough winds blowing from the open ocean were ruffling through Fabrizio’s already unruly hair, and with a little sigh, he closed his eyes, concentrated on the distant taste of salt on his lips, the cold air slapping into his face. For the first time in days, he would have had the opportunity to lay down in peace, to catch up on some of the sleep that his body was missing oh so desperately, but now, with his job at the island solved and the perspective of leaving towards home soon, he didn’t want to miss the opportunity of spending a little more time at the beach. The distant horizon whispered of endlessness, of peace, and at the same time, of new opportunities, and Fabrizio desperately wanted to listen to it.

He had been staying in Sicily for a little over three weeks, travelling there right from a mission to track down a vampire in the hills around Florence, and now, faced with the perspective of returning to Rome, he felt everything but excitement. It was not that he didn’t love the city, he always had and always would, deep in his heart, but it just didn’t feel like it had. Stones, buildings, ruins, those weren’t what made a place a _home_ , no, the people were what mattered. The people one loved turned a place into a home, and for Fabrizio, he had lost everyone who had made Rome his home quite a while ago. And nowadays, it only felt like a shadow of itself; masses of people shuffling through the ancient streets reminding him of just how alone he was, causing him to think of the people he had lost. Some, he had lost to the unforgiving grasp of death, their passing clawing scars on his grieving heart, and some had _chosen_ to walk away from him, leaving behind an empty space in his world that grew a little bigger with everyone that left. 

At this time, Fabrizio had given up on the thought of ever not feeling this excruciating loneliness anymore, or at least that was what he tried to tell himself. That it was better this way, to not hope for something that wouldn’t ever happen anyways. He had a task to do in this world, a calling, and if that was all that would be filling his life, it had to be enough. And if it killed him one day, at least nobody would have to grieve too hard.

 

After staring at the steel grey waves and the distant horizon for a little longer, Fabrizio left the cold beach to walk back to the pension in which he was staying, and when the old man owning it offered him to have dinner with his family to celebrate the danger that he had prevented their village from, Fabrizio politely declined, and his yawn wasn’t completely faked. Back in his room, he fell onto the not too comfortable bed, trying to sleep, but the blessed unconsciousness refused to take over his mind, and so he just rolled from one side of the worn-down mattress to the other for a while. Until he finally sat up with a sigh, running his hands through his hair, and when he stretched his body, he felt the sting of a wound that a sharp tail had left at his back. 

Stretching his arm back as far as he could, Fabrizio did his best to apply some healing salve to the wound that luckily hadn’t been to deep, and then, he walked over to the little bookshelf in the room’s corner, the one that the daughter of the owner had brought his attention to when he had moved into the room. She had told him how she had read all the books herself, some pride swinging in her voice, and informed him that if he ever would be interested in talking about one of them, or to get an advice about which one to pick to read, she would be open to help. And she was a sweet girl, with her soft voice and long black hair, and Fabrizio could see it in the sparkle in her dark eyes, everything that she offered him in that moment, but he had declined. He never would be able to offer her what she was hoping for, what he himself sometimes caught himself wishing for, deep into sleepless nights: a life together, a love warming their hearts like it did to the people in her books, the promise of _peace_ ; things like those just didn’t happen in their world. At least they didn’t happen to Fabrizio. And he had lost interest in illusions of something the like that lasted for one night only and then got destroyed by the first rays of morning sunlight a long time ago, so he also didn’t invite her to his room on that evening. Or any of the following. 

Fabrizio let his eyes roam over the titles, and then picked up the first one that he didn’t know. The book was small, leather bound, and the letters at the front read _A Christmas Carol in Prose, being a Ghost Story of Christmas, by Charles Dickens_ , which certainly sparked his interest. With the book in his hand, Fabrizio settled back into the bed, cuddling himself into the blankets that offered a poor illusion of a hug, and while the sun set over Sicily, Fabrizio read the whole book in one go. He had enjoyed it, and there certainly were some things to think about that it offered, but finally, the tiredness kicked in, and so Fabrizio fell asleep, the book in his calloused hands; wondering about life decisions, the true meaning of Christmas and if London actually still might look like it was described in the book.

 

And when Fabrizio awoke in the next morning, his back hurting a bit from both the wound and the uncomfortable mattress, he had come to a decision. He would grant himself a holiday. With a smile, he stood up, and suddenly heard the low sound of something falling to the ground. He picked it up, and held the book in his hands that he had read during the previous evening. His smile widened, and he wondered if the destination for his holiday might have just fallen right in his path…

 

_**Somewhere in the Italian Alps, 2018, a few days before Christmas** _

Andrea looked up towards the slowly darkening sky, and sighed, shakily. In general, he was a rather optimistic person, always able to see the good in a situation, but here, even he was having difficulties. It had been over an hour since he realized that the path he was looking for wasn’t where he had expected it to be, and by now, there was no sense in denying the fact that he was lost. Utterly and completely lost. There was rough nature all around, mountains lingering above him in what by now seemed to be a rather threatening fashion, and with an unpleasant feeling in his stomach, Andrea also noticed that it was getting colder. He wrapped his scarf around his neck a little tighter, and once again tried to find a signal with his phone, but just as there hadn’t been the 13 tries before, there also now wasn’t the hint of a connection to the outside world possible. 

Had there been someone else with him, Andrea probably would have tried to put on a brave face, to somehow lighten the situation, but alone as he was, he couldn’t quite find the energy to do that in himself. And so, he also didn’t deny the few tears that slipped down his freezingly cold cheeks – it nearly seemed a miracle that they didn’t turn into ice right there and then, and hadn’t desperation been clawing her fangs into Andrea’s heart, he would have found that thought romantic.

After another minute of basking in his misery, Andrea mentally shook himself, and stood back up. There was no point in sitting here just waiting for night to fall, none at all, and if he gave in to his exhaustion now, he never might wake up from it. This was a terrifying thought, one of the kind that seemed impossible to happen to oneself, but Andrea couldn’t deny the danger of the situation he had ended himself in, and how much it scared him, deep in his heart. But there was no point in dwelling on that, and no hope for help to miraculously appear out of the blue. If he wanted to get out of here, he’d have to do it himself, and so, Andrea took a step on shaking legs, and then the next, and then another. 

He was walking downwards, and that was good, it just had to be. Making out the path in the fleeting light became more and more challenging, but for a while, Andrea managed to do so quite well, and then, shortly after the moon started to lurk above one of the mountains, he felt the ground turning a little flatter. The additional light from above provided Andrea with some new energy, for he didn’t feel quite as alone anymore, and he walked with a little more energy in his steps, positive that he was on the right way.

 

And then, it happened. One of the rocks Andrea stepped on suddenly gave in, slithering down from the larger one it had been laying on top of, and Andrea tried to catch himself from falling by stretching out his hands, but the stones were icy and slippery, and so, he couldn’t avoid crashing to the ground. And while that certainly was unpleasant and would leave him with a bunch of bruises and scratches, it wasn’t the worst thing. No, that had to be the way that his left foot got caught in the edge between two rocks while falling, and the sickening sound with which his ankle cracked. Andrea gasped, laid still for a moment, and tried to tell himself that the pain wasn’t real. It was just an illusion that his brain was playing on him, and he could ignore it, he could just breathe through it- 

With some effort and his hands scratching over rough stones once more, Andrea managed to scramble back into a standing position, and as soon as he tried to put a part of his weight onto his left foot, he exhaled harshly in a mix of pain and desperation. Shit. He tried again, took a trembling step forwards, but no matter how hard he bit his lip, how desperately he tried to tell himself that he just _had_ to keep going, that there was no other option, he couldn’t. His ankle felt as if it was sprained, if not broken, and after some painful minutes, Andrea had to admit to himself that he couldn’t hope to walk on it any further. 

A frustrated scream left his lips as he lowered himself to the ground, stretching the traitorous foot away from his body, and he couldn’t help the bitter tears streaming down his cheeks. This just couldn’t be true. Things like this happened to characters in adventure movies, or to brave men and women who then later wrote books about their experiences, but not to him, not to a random student who just had wanted to go for a nice little walk. 

In those movies, there often were big efforts taken to save one person from a situation of great danger, and Andrea couldn’t help but think about how in those cases, the people usually got missed. There were persons aware of where they had gone, worrying that they didn’t get back in time, but in Andrea’s case that wouldn’t happen. All he had told his friends was that he would go hiking, but not when he planned to be back, and with Christmas around the corner, it certainly would take them a day or two to notice that he wasn’t answering their texts, if they would text him at all. And the only person who might know or at least guess where he had gone was the old man in the hostel, but he couldn’t be sure that he would remember him at all, leave alone call the police or the mountain rescue on him. No, he was all on his own. And that didn’t seem to be much.

 

Andrea was aware of how small the chances were that someone actually might hear him, but that didn’t stop him from calling for help nevertheless, screaming at the top of his lungs, praying to God or whoever might be above there that someone might hear him. That he wouldn’t freeze to death in the middle of a moonlit night shortly before Christmas, far away from any other beating heart.

It was hard to say how long he might have been laying there, seen as his phone had given up a while ago (after Andrea had used the last few percentages left of power to stare at a picture of his parents, and then, to record a short video message for them, just in case), and as the moon had vanished behind a cloud, enabling Andrea from having a look at his watch. But it must have been quite a long time, judged by how terribly, _terribly_ cold, and how very sleepy Andrea did feel, when suddenly, there was a movement visible in the corner of his eye.

“Hey!”, Andrea screamed, as loud as he could – both to attract the attention of a potential savior and to scare away the other being, in case it might be some kind of a predator looking for an easy prey.

The shadow that walked closer now on hurried legs turned out to be neither a wolf nor a bear, but rather a man, and when Andrea could vaguely make out his features in the dark, he could have cried out of happiness. The man dropped to his knees in front of Andrea, therewhile already shrugging out of his coat, and while the young man caught an impression of chaotic dark hair and a bearded face in a sudden ray of moonlight breaking through the clouds, he finally lost consciousness… 

 

_**Vienna, 1921, 19th October** _

As Fabrizio walked through the city’s busy streets, he noticed how it seemed that a change of energy had taken place between this afternoon and the previous. Where then, people had been rushing through the rain, their faces resembling the clouds above them and the splashing sounds of wheels drowning out conversations, there now was the laughter of kids playing at the sidewalks, smiles being exchanged and illuminated by the gentle autumn sun, steps slowing down a little to not have to leave the weather of the maybe last bright day of the year too soon. The whole population of Vienna seemed to be delighted about the unexpected sunshine in the middle of an October that so far had been dominated by rain, fog and storms, and while Fabrizio could see where they were coming from with this, he couldn’t relate. Not when the sunshine meant that he was walking the streets alone, hurrying his steps because he had a goal and afterwards, a reason to come home to, while yesterday, there had been someone walking by his side. Someone to share his thoughts with, someone to point out an interesting piece of architecture here or a man with a silly hat there to him (“That one’s so hideous, you should ask him where he got it”, whispered with a cheeky grin a little bit too close to his face to be socially appropriate), someone who caused Fabrizio’s life to be filled with way more light than the sun herself ever could.

Fabrizio hurried around a corner, and then smiled once he spotted the building that he was heading for. The Vienna State Opera was standing proudly under the gentle blue sky, Fabrizio’s eyes being drawn to the columns supporting the building and the elegant green roof, and he needed a moment of walking around in front of it until he found what he was looking for. Next to the main entrance, there was a smaller portal, and once inside, Fabrizio blinked against the sudden drop in brightness. His steps echoed on the marble floor, and after stepping through another door, he was able to order two opera tickets for the evening. German wasn’t his strong suite, it was even worse than English in Fabrizio’s opinion, and Ermal surely would have been able to have a better conversation with the man selling the tickets, but since his love was homebound for the day, Fabrizio’s heavily accented words stumbling across a foreign sentence structure would have to do. And it could have been worse, since he left the elegant building with two tickets for quite good seats in his pocket and a smile from the opera man following him. 

On his way home, Fabrizio stopped at a little bakery, the elderly lady owning it recognizing him with a warm expression in her eyes, and when she pointed towards a certain kind of cookies with a questioning smile, Fabrizio answered it with a nod and a smile of his own. Shortly after arriving in Vienna around four weeks ago, Ermal and him had sent a package of exactly those to Marco and Betty, who were on an expedition in Norway at the moment, and after their enthusiastic answering letter, it was out of question that they’d get some more. And who knew, if things went according to plan and they all would meet for Christmas, maybe then Fabrizio would be able to try baking them himself. For now though, the ones the old lady packed into a paper box for him were perfect, and Fabrizio made sure to leave her a generous trip before finally turning towards the street in which Ermal and him rented their apartment; a certain swing to his steps. It was still sunny, but that shouldn’t be a problem, since there were a few hours left until the opera would start – enough time to get dressed properly, and certainly also for some cuddling with his vampire. Which was a tempting perspective, and Fabrizio opened the front door of the building they lived in with a bright smile on his lips.

 

The man smiled as he saw how the sunlight got reflected in the water sprinkling from a fountain; laughing children running around it and ducking the water as if it would burn them if they came in touch. Rough fingers closed around the silver dagger he kept in his coat’s pocket, and his grin widened. Today was a perfect day for hunting, and he knew all too well where to find his prey. He didn’t know when exactly the creature had arrived in the city, but it couldn’t have been too long, for so far, the police hadn’t started picking up on an increased amount of missing people who turned up again derailed of all their blood, and so far, people didn’t shiver in fear at the thought of leaving their houses after the night had started to fall around Vienna. His city hadn’t picked up on the danger that had chosen to exist right in its middle, and the man would make sure to keep it like this. The monster had made a mistake when it chose to come to this out of all places, and he’d make sure to let it pay. _Killing_ was, in his opinion, not quite a fitting word for an abomination that wasn’t even alive, but if he couldn’t kill it, he very well could promise himself to _end_ the creature. And he wouldn’t make it fast, no, he planned on quite the opposite. Some beings just deserved to suffer, and over the years, he had become an expert in making them.

He had discovered the creature three days ago, and with it, the man by his side as well. It had come as quite a shock, to see a man whom he could sense oh so clearly to be one of his own kind, walking side by side with a vampire. At first, he had been looking for obvious signs of him being forced, like a knife to his back, but there was nothing. And his second theory, the other hunter somehow just trying to gain the monster’s trust, also did fell flat – apart from how incredibly stupid the vampire would need to be for that, he just couldn’t imagine someone to be able to fake his own expressions that well, not even the most experienced or dedicated of hunters. No, he looked at the vampire with something nearly resembling _adoration_ on his face, and that called for a third theory. Some kind of a spell had to be involved here, a dark blood magic that the vampire used to control the other hunter, and the man wasn’t sure if he’d be able to break that spell before taking out the monster. Better not take the risk, and so, he had waited until the hunter had left the building, to go on whatever deeds the vampire forced him on. And then, after a last check of his weapons, he walked towards his mission with steady steps.

 

Ermal looked up from his book as soon as he heard a knock on the door, then placed a postcard showing some houses in Stockholm between the pages to be able to find the scene he had been reading again, and after carefully putting his favourite Jane Austen novel down at the bedside table, he got up and stretched himself. With a smile, he walked towards the door, a witty remark already at the tip of his tongue – technically, he always would be older than Fabrizio, but if his lover had once again forgotten to take his key along when leaving their flat, that just _called_ for a remark about him becoming an old man. 

There was another knock, even more insistent, and Ermal shook his head. He’d have liked to believe that Fabrizio was just looking forward to being reunited with him a lot, but knowing him, his hurry also could be very well caused by a sudden need to use the bathroom. Whatever it was, Ermal was glad that Fabrizio would be in his arms soon – so glad that he didn’t pay any attention to the way that the little hairs in the back of his neck started to stand up. A missed observation that he would regret later.

With a smile, Ermal opened the flat’s wooden door – a smile that soon turned into confusion, a confusion he tried to hide behind politeness. But just when Ermal was about to ask the man in front of the door if he could help him, he already sprang into action.

 

It took the monster a moment to open the door, and when it did, there was a smile on his lips, showing off its unnaturally pointy teeth. As soon as the red glimmering eyes met the hunter’s own, the smile vanished from those unearthly pale features, and before the creature could question his appearance, the hunter swung his arm upwards, the silver knife held tightly in his fist. His calculations had been right – the vampire felt too safe here, with the only hunter he was aware of being under his control, and so, he had let his defenses down. A mistake, and quite a big one. It wasn’t without a hint of satisfaction that the hunter stuck his prey across its face with the dagger, and once he heard the pained yelp at the contact of cursed skin with silver, he quickly punched his fist forwards. The handle of the knife, silver as well, came in contact with the cut, and before he staggered backwards, the vampire screamed.

 

Ermal didn’t know what was happening, what had gone wrong, he knew nothing, except for the excruciating pain that he felt. It was as if someone was pressing a red hot piece of iron into his face, flames licking all the way towards his brain, all the nerves in his body being set on fire, and he wished he’d pass out, anything for this horror to just _end_ , but that didn’t happen. Instead, he felt himself roughly being lifted, dragged across the wooden kitchen floor on which he had collapsed, and then, whoever this terror that had invaded his home might be did slap him across the face, his cheek still burning where it had been cut open by the silver dagger.

“You’re going to focus on me, monster, and don’t you even _dare_ to think of losing consciousness on me here. You’d regret it.”

With an enormous effort, Ermal managed to see the man a little less blurry, and now, that all his senses were on edge, he noticed it. The subtle aura embracing the human, the one whispering nothing but danger towards Ermal. Or rather, the one that should. He remembered how he immediately had felt it around Fabrizio, over 20 years ago, and how ready to kill the hunter he was facing he had been back then. But a lot had happened since then, and sooner rather than later, the feeling of a hunter being so close had become one that rather was associated with safety than with any kind of danger. Ermal had fallen in love with a human who had a drop of angel blood running through his veins and a higher calling to hunt down the creatures of the night, and lately, he might have forgotten that there were others like Fabrizio out there. Or, well, rather not like Fabrizio. Not at all. Even in times before they had met, Ermal couldn’t imagine his lover to torture a monster just for the sake of it, and sadly, this was exactly what Ermal was experiencing right now. 

His arms were yanked behind his body and then bound with what seemed to be handcuffs forged from pure silver, and Ermal wished he could prevent giving his opponent the satisfaction of forcing another scream from his throat, but when the metal burnt into his wrists and fire ran up his arms, he couldn’t help it. Blackness was lingering at the edges of his vision, and the only thing that made Ermal fight against it was the thought of Fabrizio. It couldn’t be long until his love would be coming home, and Ermal needed to be awake for this. To be able to warn him. To tell him to run, before this mad man would capture him too. To save him, while he himself couldn’t imagine being ever saved from the pain he was in.

 

Fabrizio walked up the narrow wooden staircase, his thoughts swirling around the question if anyone would notice should one or two of the cookies he had bought would vanish before he would send them, when suddenly, he stopped in his steps. There had been a noise coming from upstairs, and he was not sure of its origin, but something about it caused him to swallow uncomfortably. He stood there, as if frozen to the spot, and focused on doing nothing but listening. His ears were certainly a little more sensitive than the average human’s, and as handy as this came in a variety of situations, this included, there was a split second in which he wished he wouldn’t have heard what he did. A voice was snarling, one that was neither his love’s nor that of their neighbor, and the words it said caused Fabrizio’s heart to nearly stutter to a stop, while his feet started to carry him faster than he ever could remember.

_”Should we open one of those curtains to let in some sunlight, or would you prefer us to have some fun together for a little longer first?”_

With a shout he wasn’t aware of being the source of Fabrizio burst through the flat’s front door, and was soon faced with two pairs of eyes focusing on him. One was icy blue, staring questioning at him out of an unknown face – the man seemed to be in his forties, the face underneath a dirty mat of dark blond hair was sweating, and in his hand, he held a knife. A knife not unlike the one that Fabrizio had used to carry at his body what seemed to be centuries ago, and with a sick feeling in his stomach, he knew what it was made of. And that brought him to the second pair of eyes looking at him, even though Fabrizio couldn’t be sure if those actually were _seeing_ him at the moment, or just staring in his direction. 

Fabrizio loved Ermal’s eyes, their dark colour being crisscrossed with thin red lines, such a unique pattern that somehow fitted the flames that seemed to burn deep inside Ermal’s precious heart, and when he saw tears in them now, matching the ones getting lost in the blood on his cheeks, Fabrizio saw red himself. After shooting an intense look at his love, one that hopefully reached him, one that whispered _I love you, and I won’t allow him to hurt you any further_ , Fabrizio stepped towards the stranger. He was a few centimeters smaller than the blonde, but that didn’t stop him, and the man swallowed uncomfortable underneath Fabrizio’s murderous gaze.

“What are you doing here”, Fabrizio hissed, punctuating each single word, and the other hunter took the hint of a step back.

“I’ll give you a chance to see through the spell that this _monster_ ”, he spat the last word in Ermal’s direction, who flinched slightly, “has put on you, because I can sense that you’re like me, but if you don’t start to see clearly, I’ll have to finish you off, just like _that_ ”, and once again, his light blue eyes were flickering towards Ermal.

“ _That?_ ”, Fabrizio repeated the word, a low whisper, and the other man nodded, his teeth flashing in an ugly grin.

Fabrizio took a deep breath, and his voice cut through the air like steel folded for a hundred times.

“That”, Fabrizio said again, this time looking at Ermal himself, catching the confused look in his red glimmering eyes, “Is the love of my life. And you were dead the second you dared to lay a finger on him.”

And with that, Fabrizio did what he had been yearning to ever since he had stepped into the flat, and was faced with a scene as if it had been taken right out of one of his darkest nightmares.

He raised the gun he kept underneath his coat in one swift motion, and shot the blond hunter straight through the forehead. 

 

Ermal heard the thud of a heavy body collapsing onto the floor, and then, suddenly, there was a soft touch at his cheeks, tender fingers gently caressing his skin while trembling slightly, and when he blinked through the tears, he could see Fabrizio’s face oh so close to his own; eyes that used to look at him as if he was anything but a monster, lips whose kisses felt like sunshine, dark hair that only looked more beautiful as tinted with grey as it had become. All of it as if it was hidden by a thin vail of clouds, making it hard to focus, and Ermal tried to blink against it, to clear his vision, but right now, this task seemed to be too hard for him.

“Oh my love, what has he done to you”, Fabrizio whispered, and where his voice had been steel before, it now was shaking like a leaf in the biting autumn wind.

With a soft sigh, Ermal closed his eyes, all the energy to fight seemingly leaving him as soon as Fabrizio’s arms embraced him like a blanket of safety. He wondered if he’d pass out, just change into a state of sleep where the pain wouldn’t be as bad, but all too soon, Ermal’s eyes shot open again. Fabrizio had tugged at the handcuffs binding him, and when the silver cut once again into the already abused flesh of Ermal’s wrists, he couldn’t help a muffled scream.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry my dear”, Fabrizio whispered, while finally taking off the burning metal, and hadn’t his strong arms been there to catch him, Ermal would have collapsed from the chair right onto the floor.

 

Fabrizio sank to his knees on the kitchen floor, gently lowering down Ermal’s limp body and placing the vampire’s head in his lap, and while one of his hands stroked through his love’s matted curls in what he hoped to be a comforting matter, he frantically thought about what he might do to help. The cut on Ermal’s face didn’t seem too bad, once he wiped away the blood from pale cheeks with the soft fabric of his caramel coloured scarf there wasn’t any new following, but what worried Fabrizio were his lover’s wrists. 

Careful, Fabrizio took one of Ermal’s hands in his, trying his best to not touch the abused skin but to still take a look, and when he accidentally had his love’s wrist brushing against the rough fabric of his own coat and felt him flinch violently in his arms, Fabrizio’s heart cracked a little more.

“Ermal? Darling, can you hear me?”, and while the vampire’s eyelids fluttered, he didn’t answer, “Please, tell me what I can do.”

But no matter how much Fabrizio begged, there still were no words from Ermal. And suddenly, a rather terrifying thought was born in Fabrizio’s mind. What if he never would hear his love’s voice again? No, that wouldn’t happen, he couldn’t even think of it, he wouldn’t _let_ it happen. He’d do everything to help Ermal to get better. And since he was not sure what he could do about the wrists, he decided to first do something to help him in general. Something to help him to get back a little strength.

Fabrizio fingered the little knife out of his coat’s pocket (the blade was made from regular steel, decorated by an elegant pattern of stars; it had been a gift from Marco) and then, after a deep breath, sliced open his own left wrist. The pain was immediate, but he couldn’t focus on it, he wouldn’t, this wasn’t about him. And so, instead of taking care of his own wound, Fabrizio pressed his bleeding wrist tightly against Ermal’s pale lips.

With great relief, Fabrizio felt how Ermal first softly opened his lips, allowing some drops of blood to find their way inside his mouth, then started to suck a little, and finally, _finally_ , there were sharp fangs burying themselves into Fabrizio’s flesh. He bit his own lip until a taste of iron filled his mouth too, and before he felt it balling into a fist at the floor, Fabrizio hadn’t even realized his other hand dropping from Ermal’s curls. But this was okay, he could bear it, as long as Ermal would get better, as long as he would be alright…

Fabrizio’s vision became a bit blurry, and then, after what seemed like hours to his troubled mind, the pain stopped. Or at least a part of it did, and while he still was processing the fact that Ermal wasn’t sucking at his wrist anymore, Fabrizio found himself staring into blood red eyes. Eyes that were so much clearer than before, fire once again burning in them, and then, after a second, a shocked expression appeared in their depths.

“Ermal? How do you feel?”, and Fabrizio ignored how weak his own voice sounded. 

“How _I_ \- Fabri, what did you do”, and with an even more horrified look, Ermal’s eyes fixed on the ripped open skin of Fabrizio’s wrist, “What did I do to you, my love”, his voice broke while a new tear ran down his cheek.

“Nothing that wasn’t necessary”, Fabrizio answered with a weak but nevertheless honest smile, “I just hoped it would make you feel better, at least a little bit.”

 

And it had. Ermal already could sense some of his strength returning while he still felt the warm blood inside his mouth, the taste bewitching the primal parts of his brain, and hadn’t it been his dearly beloved offering him his wrist, Ermal couldn’t have sworn that he would have been able to stop himself. At least not that early.

But as it was, Ermal knew the taste of this particular human’s blood, and so he stopped. Looked at Fabrizio, whom he finally could see clearly again, at the paleness of his face, the shallowness of his breath, and if his love hadn’t started smiling at him right in that moment, he might have gotten a little more lost into hating himself for taking so greedily what his human needed to survive.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, I’m fine”, Fabrizio insisted, and then leaned forwards, resting his forehead against Ermal’s.

They stayed like this for a while, and Ermal felt better with each passing second, even though his wrists still hurt a whole lot. But by now, his senses were working fine again, and so he could hear Fabrizio’s breath regaining at least some steadiness, could smell the man’s perfume that long again had started to become a part of his definition of _home_ , and could, once he leaned back a little, also see the expression in Fabrizio’s eyes. Those wonderful, chocolate coloured eyes that held nothing but worry in them, and so, so much love.

 _”Thank you”_ , Ermal whispered, putting all of his heart into it, and Fabrizio placed the hint of a kiss at the tip of his nose.

“Everything, for you. I just wish I had been a little sooner-“

“Shh, don’t. It’s okay. We both are. We’re here. We’re alive. And I love you, dear lord, Fabrizio, I love you so incredibly much.”

“And I love you. I’ll kill anyone who ever tries to hurt you again. I’ll-“, and before Fabrizio could say more, Ermal met his lips in a passionate kiss.

Where Fabrizio’s earlier touches had been gentle, this wasn’t, not quite – it was raw, breathless, _desperate_ , as if both of them needed this, as a final proof that they both were there, still together, and that they would be fine.

 

And they were. It took them a while to leave that wooden floor and the tight embrace they held each other in, but once they did, they did their best to patch up each other’s wrists, and then, after Ermal had convinced Fabrizio to eat at least a few cookies and drink some water, they laid down on their bed together. Fabrizio held Ermal tightly, the vampire burying his head in his lover’s chest, and when he started to speak, it was the softest of whispers against dark curls.

“When I heard him from the staircase, I was so scared that I’d lose you. So incredibly scared that I’d be too late.”

Ermal wrapped his own arms around Fabrizio a little tighter.

“But you weren’t. You saved me, twice today, and I love you so much for it. You’re my personal guardian angel.”

A kiss was placed in Ermal’s curls, and shortly after, the vampire fell asleep. By now, only a dull pain was thrumming from his wrists, and as terrified as he had been a few hours before, as safe he felt now. 

Both the vampire and the former hunter gained scars on that day, on their bodies as well as on their hearts, and for a while, Ermal started to tense around men he didn’t know, and Fabrizio refused to leave his love alone for longer than it took to pick up a freshly baked bread. But they got better, holding tightly onto each other’s hands, and after a while, decided to leave Vienna. The city hadn’t brought them much luck, and Fabrizio still flinched every time he walked past the opera, so after a last nice little chat at the bakery, they packed their suitcases and left with the night train going south. 

And in the end, they were okay - in a little castle deep in the Italian Alps, surrounded by high mountains, thick walls into which a hint of magic seemed to be woven, and their loved ones…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are what makes updates happen 😉

**Author's Note:**

> Nice comments would make my day!! ❤


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